


Lab Rat

by roaming4040



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adopted Abigail Hobbs, Angst, Blood and Injury, Dark Bedelia Du Maurier, Doctor/Patient, Drugging, Drugs, Escape Attempts, Government Experimentation, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Lots of Angst, M/M, Medical, Medical Examination, Medical Experimentation, Medical Horror, Medical Jargon, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Power Dynamics, Restraints, Self-Harm, Someone Help Will Graham, Surgery, non-con drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 54,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaming4040/pseuds/roaming4040
Summary: Will is kidnapped by a secret government facility and forced to undergo experiments in the name of science. Will him and a handsome new doctor make it out alive? (Inspired by fanart by Cherohero.) (Updates every other day)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 57
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

Will Graham and his adoptive daughter, Abigail drove down the empty country path one Sunday afternoon in May. They’d been on a road trip up to Montreal for a few days, stopping at various motels along the way. Will had some friends from college that lived there that he’d been writing to for a few months. Summer was rolling around the corner and Will thought that it was about time that him and Abigail had a vacation.

“Dad, can you turn up the AC?” Abigail asked as she lounged in the back seat casually with a book in hand.

“Sure thing,” Will responded, turning a knob that sprung the air conditioning to life.

Abigail sighed, looking out the window at the grassy plains and dark cloudy skies.

“It looks like it’s going to rain tonight,” Will commented, his eyes still on the road.

“Yeah, the clouds look angry,” Abigail replied. “How long until we get there?”

“Were almost to the boarder, but we’ve still got a bit of a ways to go before we getto where we’re going,” Will answered. Abigail sighed and went back to staring out the front window.

Several minutes later, they spotted a large small tollbooth in the distance, guarded by three armed guards and three white vans.

“Dad, what’s going on over there?” Abigail asked.

“It can’t be boarder patrol- we’re still eight miles from the checkpoint...” Will mumbles.

Suddenly, one of the men, dressed in all white and carrying a large firearm hailed Will down, gesturing for him to pull over.

Will hesitated, but seeing how menacing, yet official, the men looked, he slowly pulled over to the side of the road.

“Get out your passport, sweetheart,” Will told Abigail and she slowly obeyed.

Two guards in dark sunglasses and white uniforms approached the car as Will pulled down the window.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Will spoke, keeping his hands on the wheel and smiling innocently at them.

“Can we see your identifications, sir,” the first officer told him sternly.

Will gestured back to Abigail, who quickly handed him both his and her passports. Will handed them to the officer, who scanned over them methodically.

“Reason for travel?” the officer asked.

“My daughter and I are visiting some friends up in Montreal. ‘Just a family vacation,” Will discussed.

The officers glanced at each other, then back to the passports.

Suddenly, one of the officers took out their cellphone and snapped a photo of Will’s passport.

“Uh…Hey I didn’t consent to-“ Will tried to object, not knowing if it was legal or not for boarder control to photograph passports, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Are you traveling alone?” one of the men asked.

“…Alone?” Will asked.

“It’s just the two of you?”

“Uh, yes, it’s just us,” Will replied.

The guards whispered among themselves, looking from their phone back to each other. One of the men’s walkie talkies beeped and the officer held it up to his ear.

_“Yes…Yes, an adult male and teenage female…yes…yes, understood- only the male…What do we do with the girl?”_ the officer mumbled quietly into the radio with his back turned.

Will’s face went pale. He knew there was something about these two men was sketchy. Boarder patrol wouldn’t be as far away from the boarder and their uniforms didn’t look like any police officer he’d seen.

Something was absolutely wrong.

Will slowly turned back to Abigail, who was just as confused as he was. In his eyes, he held genuine fear.

“Abigail…You remember how to drive a car, right?” Will whispered, his voice teetering somewhere on the line between calm and terrified.

Abigail just stared at her father in shock.

“…Uh…”

“Sir, are you aware of boarder state article 746?” The first officer shot down at Will.

“Um, I can’t say that I am,” Will replied nervously.

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to please step out of the vehicle,” the first officer told Will sternly.

“What for?” Will asked, turning back to them, his hands beginning to shake.

“We would rather not use force.”

Will quickly turned back to Abigail again and whispered, _“Get in the drivers seat and get as far away from here as you can, okay?”_

“What?!” Abigail cried out, but it was too late.

“There has to be some sort of misunderstanding!” Will tried to argue. “You see, I-“

At this point, the officers reached over, swung open the door and grabbed Will by his bicep and dragged him out forcibly.

“HEY, GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” Will shouted, struggling against the officers who were attempting to slap a pair of handcuffs on him.

“DAD!” Abigail screamed, reaching for him, trying to grab onto his hand before it unwillingly left the wheel.

The first man wrapped his arms around Will while the other quickly took out a rag and a bottle of what could only be inferred as chloroform.

As soon as Will saw this, he screamed to his daughter, “ABIGAIL, RUN!”

“What?!” she screamed, unwilling to leave her father in

**“GET OUT OF HERE, ABIGAIL! RU-”**

Suddenly, Will felt a hand with a cloth cover his mouth and nose before he could finish his sentence. He gasped and tried to hold his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued to fight the hands holding him. They shoved him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him so he was on his knees with his arms behind his back. He tried his best to hold it in, but in a matter of seconds, he succumbed and unwillingly inhaled a whiff of the chloroform being held to his face. He kicked and grunted and wheezed, struggling like a rabid animal, trying his best only to breathe when necessary, but the chemicals quickly began to kick in. His vision began going blurry, his limbs began to weaken and his mind fogged.

Abigail stared in horror, not believing what her eyes were telling her. She watched as her father struggled ruthlessly, trying with everything he had in him to fight, but failing.

She knew she couldn’t wait until her father was unconscious to run. Adrenaline pumping through her, she quickly climbed over the edge of the seat, parked herself in the drivers seat, put the car in drive and stepped on the gas. The car sparked to life and in seconds, Will and the officers were left in the dust.

By the time Abigail had sped into the horizon, Will was out cold.

“Dammit. The boss isn’t gonna be happy when she hears this…” the second officer said as the two of them effortlessly picked up Will’s lifeless body and transported it into one of the white trucks parked beside the tollbooth. Will would definitely have a headache when he wakes up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up and discovers the unsavory truth.

Will woke feeling groggy and confused. He had a splitting headache and he felt as if he’d both slept for 12 hours and not slept at all at the same time. He slowly opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings with an unfocused gaze.

He found himself laying on a white cot in a small white room. The only furniture in the room was the bed he was laying on and a small white stool beside it. There was a single door on the wall across from him and a large mirror that spanned about half the wall. The florescent lights above him flickered as he slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was still wearing the clothes he came in with; a red flannel, green jacket and black jeans. He checked his pockets only to find his wallet, phone and passport missing. He groaned, rubbing his temples, when he noticed a thick metal bracelet around his left wrist. It had a small light that silently flashed red every few seconds, and when Will tried to squeeze out of it, it wouldn’t budge- as if it was specifically built for his wrist alone.

He groaned, giving up on trying to wiggle out of the contraption and instead drew his attention to the large mirror on the wall. He stepped up to it and pressed a finger to the glass. There was no space between his finger and the finger in the reflection, which meant that it was a two-way mirror.

Then he began to panic. How did he get here? Where was Abigail? Wait...Abigail. Everything was coming to him now. He remembered the drive down, the men grabbing him and dragging him away from her, then nothing.

Suddenly, the door opened and out appeared a tall middle aged woman in a white coat, medical face mask, and blue rubber gloves. She carried a clipboard in one hand, and the other was in her pocket. She had pale skin, and her long, blonde hair was brushed to the side.

She entered the room, the door swinging and automatically locking behind her. Will stared in confusion as she paced across the room, her high heels clacking against the linoleum flooring. She stood at he foot of his bed and stared down at him with cold eyes and a professional smile.

“Hello. Good to see you finally awake,” she spoke, her voice smooth like molasses. “My name is Dr Bedelia DuMaurier. I’m sure you have some questions.”

Will said nothing.

“Sit, why don’t you,” she said, gesturing to the bed.

Will shakily obeyed as she sat in the stool opposite.

“Where am I? How did I get here?” Will asked.

“You’re in an underground government research facility. We are an organization dedicated to insuring public health and safety through scientific and medical research. I’m afraid that’s all I am permitted to say,” Dr DuMaurier explained.

“...Where’s my daughter? What did you do with her?!” Will asked, raising his voice.

“I’m afraid I cannot detail that information. Just know that as long as you cooperate with us, she’ll be kept out of harms way,” Dr Du Maurier explained blankly.

This caused a sharp wave of fear to rush over Will. If anything happened to Abigail while he was away from her, he could never forgive himself.

“...What does any of this have to do with me?” Will finally asked.

The doctor looked up from her notes and made eye contact with Will. She set down her pen and looked him dead in the eye as she spoke.

“We are a government organization testing out several major experimental drugs that have the potential to reverse seemingly irreversable physical damage that has links to organ failure, several cancers, and aging. These drug trials and treatments have been tested in our facility for several years now, and a drug this revolutionary must be kept out of the public eye for several reasons such as tampering and potential theft. We do not take these trials lightly. Over the years, we’ve run short on test subjects and without going into top-secret government information, you are one of many who have been selected to participate in our research,” Dr Du Maurier explained calmly.

Will was in a state of shock. He couldn’t tell what was worse: that the government had authorized kidnapping civilians for human testing, or that he was now one of them.

“…Why me?” he asked, so quietly that it was almost a whisper. His hands were beginning to tremble now.

“You fit all of our basic qualifications at first; height, weight, build, general health, etcetera. Once we brought you back to the lab and ran a saliva test where we learned that your genetic material is a perfect fit for our main study. Consider it an honor.”

“…Excuse me?!”

“You’re about to participate in the most significant genetic testing of our generation. We will begin tomorrow, but we have to run just a few more initial tests before we proceed,” the doctor announced.

“…I’d rather not,” Will peeped.

“That wasn’t a request,” the doctor shot back.

“I want a lawyer,” Will replied, feeling panic begin to rise in his chest.

“You don’t get a lawyer,” Dr Du Maurier answered point-blankly.

“Can I make a call? I need to let my daughter know where I am,” Will begged, finding it even more and more difficult to contain his fear.

“Unfortunately, we cannot allow any outside interference in our studies. Your daughter will be taken care of,” the doctor responded, standing up from her seat. “That’s all the time we have,” she told him.

“Wait, but-“

“You will be processed now. You’ll be given a physical examination as well as a number and a uniform that you must wear at all times. Meals will be given thrice daily and tests will proceed for 6 hours a day. The rest of the time will be spent in your assigned cell. Any failure to comply will the rules will result in punishment. Do you understand?” Dr DuMaurier stated mechanically. Will could tell this was definitely not her first time reading out rules like this.

Will’s eyes filled with tears and he finally broke, burying his face in his hands and beginning to cry. “Please...I just need to know if Abigail is safe...” he whined.

“I said, do you understand?” Dr DuMaurier called back, completely unfazed by him. 

Will whimpered and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. In that moment, he felt completely and utterly hopeless. For all he knew, he was going to be a lab rat for the rest of his life, but what hurt most is not knowing where Abigail was or if she was safe. Dr DuMaurier has said that as long as Will cooperates, she’d be safe, so complying was his best option at ensuring her safety and/or freedom.

“Ok...” Will replied.

Almost as if on cue, three men dressed in white coats and medical masks entered the room.

“Now, please follow these gentlemen here for your processing,” the doctor ordered, gesturing to the group. Will breathed in shakily, realizing he had no other choice. He stood up from his seat on the bed and cautiously approached them. One officer walked behind him and linked a pair of handcuffs on him and they grabbed his arms, and shoved him along, roughly escorting him out.

They paced him down the narrow hallways. Will noted how bland the setting was; the halls just looked like halls you’d find in a general hospital. When Will heard the words “government research facility,” he expected something a bit more high tech. The walls were a plain white, the linoleum floors were clean and freshly mopped, and the various doors lining the walls all had fingerprint keypads. Every now and then a nurse would pass them in the hall and avoid eye contact with Will, and each time Will suppressed the desire to cry at them for help.

Finally, they arrived at their destination: a door marked “processing room.” Will was ushered through the doors to find a teal room with white tile flooring and no windows. There were several surgical lights hanging from the ceiling, a tray full of medical equipment, and, to Will’s horror, in the center of the room was a metal examination table with a set of five-point restraints laid out on top.

“No, no, no...” Will mumbled, trying to back up, but the guards shoved him forward.

“Strip down to your undergarments,” one of the guards ordered, letting go of Will and gesturing forward.

Will stumbled and turned back to them. Eventually, he obeyed, removing his shirt, pants and socks and handing them to a guard, who threw them sloppily into a plastic bag. He shivered a bit from the cold, but was thankful that they still allowed him to keep his boxers on.

“Get on the table,” the first guard shouted again. Will hesitated at first, but knew that unless FBI bust through the door and save him, there was no possible way out of this situation. He shakily lifted himself onto the table and held his trembling body in his hands.

“Lay down,” the same officer barked again. Will shuttered and followed orders, laying down on the table, the cold steel meeting his skin causing a trail of goosebumps to rush down him.

Immediately, the guards began tying him down to the table, looping his wrists and ankles into the restraints and tying a thick belt over his chest. Will tried not to panic, keeping his breathing controlled as he tested the bonds with weak tugs.

As soon as Will was secure, they descended on him, taking his temperature via a thermometer under his arm as well as blood pressure again.

“Temperature is 99.1, BP is 128 over 60,” an older female doctor reported out loud as a younger masked nurse scribbled down several notes on a clipboard. She took his heart rate, moving the metal disk of the stethoscope to his left pectoral, hearing Will’s terrified heart pound under his skin. “Subject holds an elevated heart rate of 102 beats per minute,” she spoke. Will winced a bit at being called “subject.” He realized that it was highly likely that he would continue to be thoroughly dehumanized for the rest of his stay here. God forbid anyone see him as an actual person.

They stuck his inner arm with a needle and began drawing blood samples. Bottle by bottle, they took away pieces of him and he could do nothing but watch. One of the doctors began palpating his stomach, feeling his ribs down to around his hip bones. They placed the disk of the stethoscope on his stomach, the cold startling him, causing him to jump. They moved the disk around his abdomen, listening to his insides before scribbling more notes on the board. They shone a light in his eyes, stuck an instrument in his ear and clipped a few of his fingernails, placing the clippings in a Petri dish and whisking it away.

As Will continued to be poked and prodded, he thought about how just twenty four hours ago, he was back at his home with Abigail, packing up the car for the road trip and listening to easy-listening radio, whereas now he found himself strapped to a table, being treated like a science experiment by a group of lab coat-wearing strangers. He felt a tear drop down his cheek as he felt hands brush the side of his face and snip off a small lock of his wavy brown hair with a pair of steel scissors before putting it another specimen jar.

They fingerprinted him, took several measurements of his height, shoulder width, chest and so on. Just as soon as he thought they were done, one of the nurses came forward with a disinfectant cloth. She wiped over the area around his right pectoral muscle as Will looked down in confusion. She turned to leave Will’s line of sight and returned with what looked like a strip of metal with backwards letters and numbers written on it in thick black ink. She brought the metal down over Will’s pectoral and pressed it down over his skin for several seconds, and when she lifted it, it had left a perfect imprint of the numbers “C-154.” The process reminded him a bit of the temporary tattoos he’d buy Abigail for her 10th birthday, only Will figured that this one would be a little less temporary. 

It was then that he noticed they were removing his restraints. His first instinct was to try to run and make a break for the door, but he figured that was probably a dumb idea when every nurse had a tranquilizer gun in their belt holster. As soon as his arms were free, he unconsciously threw a hand over his chest to try and wipe off the numbers, but a gloved hand pulled it away. “Don’t touch that,” a voice said as a pair of hands took both his wrists, preventing Will from contaminating the newly imprinted skin.

As they placed a sheet of what looked like clear plastic wrap over his skin, Will silently appreciated how despite being kidnapped and forced into human experimentation, the nurses still used clean, sterile tools and safe procedural strategies.

The hands pulled him up into a seating position, helping him pull his legs over to the side of the bed. They helped him stand and lead him over to the corner of the room, which had a mirror, a scale and a table with a set of folded clothing on top.

“Stand on the scale,” a doctor directed. Will held himself in his arms, shivering as he walked over and stood atop the small platform. After his weight was recorded, they gestured towards the stack of clothing and told him to put them on. Will obeyed, thankful to be given something to cover himself with. He quickly slipped on the dark blue jumpsuit, white socks and velcro shoes.

As he was buttoning up the top, he noticed that the same number he was written on his chest with was imprinted on the front of the suit. He breathed in shakily and smoothed out the jumpsuit before being turned around and swiftly marched out the door.

He was lead back out into the hallway, hands cuffed behind his back. Teal windowless walls and linoleum floors draped the scene, passing various sealed doors with markers over them reading “x-ray,” “surgery ward,” and “cardiology.”

Will looked ahead to notice another man in a jumpsuit being lead by a set of guards walking down the other end of the corridor. He was taller, slightly heavier-set and a patch of his hair was shaved, showing a large healed scar. He and Will made eye contact as they passed each other in the hall, but said nothing.

Suddenly, they made a turn, crossing down into a hallway with dozens of doors marked “cell 1” through “cell 25.” They stopped at cell 16, and pressed a button on the side to unlock it. The door beeped and was cranked open. The guards grabbed Will’s wrists and quickly began un-cuffing him. By the time the cuffs were off, Will decided to attempt to communicate with the guards.

“Wait...” Will breathed, trying to turn around, but they quickly shoved him in the room abruptly and slammed the door behind him.

Will stumbled forward into the room and was startled to find himself in a small containment room with just a cot, a sink and a toilet, a security camera in the corner, and an enormous glass wall on the opposite side of him that revealed an empty hallway. He cautiously paced around the room, getting a feel of his surroundings. He walked up to the glass wall and peered outside. As if on cue, he spotted Dr Du Maurier approaching him from the end of the hallway followed by a group of scientists in lab coats. The group stopped at Will’s window and watched him with clipboards in their hands. He saw Dr Du Maurier gesturing to him and her mouth moving, but the glass was too thick for Will to understand.

Filled with insurmountable sadness and rage, Will rushed to the window and immediately began banging on the glass with his fists.

“Hey!” Will called to her, banging on the glass with a fist, trying to get her attention. “Hey! I’ve still got questions, you fucking tyrants!” he screamed. It was true- he still had what felt like hundreds of questions needing to be answered. How long would he have to stay here? How many more tests needed to be done? Would he ever be able to see Abigail again? All of these questions remained unanswered for the mean time.

From behind the glass, Dr Du Maurier paid him absolutely no mind and continued to speak on his behalf, gesturing to him and the label printed under his window. Will felt like a caged animal at a zoo, which is what he was quickly becoming.

As all eyes scanned him from top to bottom, Will began feeling extremely claustrophobic and exposed. He backed away from the glass wall, holding himself in his arms protectively, trying to calm his trembling body. He sat on the cot in the corner of the room and curled up on himself, still feeling the eyes on him and hearing the faint muffle of the doctor speaking from behind the glass. His anxiety began to rise again so he began practicing breathing techniques, but they didn’t seem to work either. He put his pillow over his head to try to block out the sound, and under the flickering lights, he eventually drowned himself in sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 begins.

Will awoke abruptly to a loud beeping in his ear. He jolted up immediately, his eyes shooting open. He frantically looked around the room, forgetting his situation and beginning to panic, when his attention was drawn back to the source of the beeping: the metal bracelet. He held it up to his eye level and fiddled with it to try and stop the piercing noise, but it continued on. It was only when Will stood up that the beeping finally stopped. He furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused, when suddenly the door opened.

Will jumped back, obviously startled. Two men in medical masks and white coats held a metal tray with what looked like a bowl of oatmeal and a plain piece of white bread. They walked a few steps in, placed the tray on the ground by the door and stood back in their position in the doorway to wait until Will was finished. He stared at them, then at the tray, then back to them again.

Cautiously, he sat on the bed, placing the tray on his lap and began eating his breakfast. The oatmeal tasted bland and the bread was definitely stale, but Will was just hungry enough to ignore these facts.

After he was done, he placed the tray back down on the floor by the door and finally made eye contact with the guards that had been watching him the whole time. They approached him, one of them taking the tray and exiting. Once his breakfast was disposed of, the two guards entered the room again and ordered Will to put his hands behind his back.

Will obeyed and gasped quietly when they locked a pair of cuffs around his wrists. They grabbed him by the upper arms and marched him out of his cell.

They paced back down the hallway, Will’s feet shuffling under him nervously, and entered a door with the a sign that read “cardiology.” Will gulped as he was escorted into the room.

Inside was several scientists huddled together beside a treadmill and a large EKG machine. As soon as Will walked through the doors, everyone in the room stopped and turned.

Will recognized some of them as part of the group that Dr Du Maurier lead just yesterday.

One of the guards unlocked Will’s handcuffs and handed him a pair of teal pants made from cheap wrinkly fabric. Will asked where the shirt to the pants was, but he didn’t get an answer. Reluctantly, in front of the whole group, he slipped out of his jumpsuit down to his boxers and slid on the pants. He held himself in his arms, feeling the chill of the room as he thumbed over the still-fresh imprint on his chest. He felt uncomfortable being shirtless in front of a crowd of strangers, but the guards didn’t even give him enough time to feel embarrassed.

They shoved him up onto the treadmill. He stepped on and immediately, the scientists began hooking him up to the machine. They placed leads and wires all over his torso and arms and connecting them to the machine. It sprung to life and began echoing Will’s heart rate, which was understandably elevated. They placed a pulse monitor on his finger and was given an IV port. He hated being touched by so many hands at once, resisting the urge to swat them away.

“C-154?” a familiar voice from behind them spoke.

Will just continued to glare at the hands touching and attaching the wires to his body.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, electric pain strike the small of his back. He cried out and doubled over, but hands caught him before he could fall.

“C-154, answer when you are spoken to,” the voice called again.

“Ugh...” Will groaned as he turned his head back, his skin searing with pain.

Dr Du Maurier stood behind him with a cattle prod in hand and a small timer in her other. He caught his breath and nodded to her softly.

“Good...This is a test of endurance. You will be given a series of injections through the IV - to which we will ask you a series of questions through the procedure. You will walk when we tell you to walk. You will run when we tell you to run and you will only stop when we tell you to stop. Do you understand, C-154?” the doctor explained.

At this point, Will had caught on that the title given to him would be C-154- whatever that meant- but he knew it was in his best interest to comply.

“...yes, ma’am...” Will replied softly, trying to bite past the pain.

“Good. Now walk,” she directed.

Suddenly, the treadmill was switched on and the floor under Will began to move. He gasped and jumped to his feet, speed-walking at a steady pace to keep up with the moving platform. Slowly, the heart monitor’s speed began to pick up. The scientists around him took notes and muttered to each other, watching the monitors. As he listened to the steady beeping of the monitors behind him, Will thought to himself that this was easier than he thought. Yes, it was dehumanizing to be hooked up to so many machines like a science project and dance for all these strangers, but at least the tasks were easy. What could be easier than just walking forward?

Then, without warning, one of the nurses to his left stuck a loaded needle into his IV port. Will tried to focus on his walking and less what the team was doing behind him.

“How do you feel, C-154?” Dr Du Maurier asked.

“I, uh, don’t feel any different,” Will answered honestly.

Dr Du Maurier scribbled something in her book before signaling to the same nurse to give Will the next injection. This time, the liquid in the needle had a faint yellow tint.

About a minute passed before Will started to feel dizzy. It wasn’t debilitating, just slightly uncomfortable.

“How do you feel now?” the doctor asked him again.

“Uh…I feel…a little foggy…” Will replied.

“Foggy? How so?”

Will blinked harshly a few times to try and wake himself up from the drugs he was given.

“I…want to sit down,” he commented.

“All in due time,” Dr Du Maurier told him as she eyed the monitors behind him and wrote several notes down in her book.

Someone pressed a button and suddenly, the platform began to tilt under him into a steeper angle. Will stumbled a bit but easily adjusted to the new surface. He gripped the handle bar in front of him as the floor from beneath him began to move faster. He panted, sucking up as much oxygen that he could as the quickening beeping from the heart monitors echoed through the room. He considered himself in relatively fit so running wasn’t an issue as much as being watched by a crowd of strangers and being scrutinized was- and being injected with mystery drugs wasn’t helping either.

“Heart rate has accelerated to 101. Commence injection three,” Dr Du Maurier stated, turning to the monitors and giving a hand signal to one of the scientists who retrieved the third needle.

Will continued to run, but slowly turned back to see what they were doing, but, as expected, he was shouted at to keep his eyes forward.

About thirty seconds after Will was administered the third injection, he began to feel nauseated. His stomach cramped and his head began to cloud.

“How do you feel now, C-154? Any changes?” Dr Du Maurier asked.

“I’m...I’m done...” Will muttered, trying to keep up with the treadmill but his limbs left like jelly.

The team exchanged looks between each other, but said nothing.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m done!” Will yelled as he continued to run, turning back.

Suddenly, the same sharp shock erupted in his back again as he screamed and tripped over himself. The heart rate spiked as the bolt of electricity traveled through him, this time catching his footing fast and still being able to keep up with the treadmill.

“That doesn’t answer my question. I will ask again; How do you-“

“No! I’m done! I don’t want this!” Will cried.

“What you want is irrelevant. The experiment will continue,” she shot back- nodding to the nurses, who readied the fourth needle.

As the fourth injection was given, the dizziness Will felt in the beginning seemed to triple in severity. His vision began to swim, his face went pale and sweat dripped down his forehead. He wasn’t sure if it was from the stress, the physical strain, or the drugs pumping through his veins; probably a mix of all three.

The heart monitor was going haywire, showing that he was under intense physical stress.

“Please,” Will whispered in breaths. “...I’m going to faint...I’m gonna-“ when suddenly, he tripped and fell forward.

Two nurses rushed to his side and grabbed him before he could fall.

“Stop the test,” Dr Du Maurier said as the floor finally stopped under him. Will was completely exhausted, his chest heaving and his skin flushing pale. They un-cuffed him, flipped him over, and laid him down on the floor of the treadmill. He groaned, his head pounding and his chest aching. They peeled back his eyelid to find his pupils completely blown.

“Interesting...mark the time at 22 minutes,” the doctor ordered.

His groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut and tossed his head from side to side. The headache he had was unlike anything he ever experienced.

“C-154...C-154 can you hear me?” a voice called. Will could hear her, but chose not to respond as a small act of rebellion.

“C-154!” The voice called out again. Will felt a hand pat the side of his face, trying to ‘wake him up,’ but he kept his eyes shut and his breathing under control. He was exhausted and wanted to give them absolutely no reason to believe he could continue.

“Subject is unresponsive. Transfer him to cell 16 and proceed with the oxygen therapy,” Dr Du Maurier’s voice echoed.

Will felt hands pull off the electrodes and heard the wheels of a cart quickly squeak along beside him. They lifted him up onto the gurney and pulled two leather bands over his legs and across his chest to secure him while the gurney was moving. As he was pushed down the hallway, light from the overhead florescent bulbs passed over his eyelids, murmurs of what a “waste of time” the experiment was and “what’s the point if they can’t even stay awake?”

When they arrived at Will’s cell, he could already hear the familiar sound of the door unlocking as they wheeled him inside. They removed the straps and carried him into bed. As soon as Will felt himself being set down on the mattress, he had a fiery urge to sit up and lunge at the men, but he was stopped by the knowledge that as long as he complied, Abigail would be safe. He was too physically exhausted to fight in the moment anyway.

He felt an oxygen mask be strapped to his face with a tank by his bedside. Will felt a wave of relief once the oxygen was turned on- immediately feeling the effects of his headache dissipate. He was startled by the feeling of the nurses tying him back down again, this time just by his wrists, presumably to prevent him from taking the mask off. As soon as they were sure he was secured, the nurses quickly left the room, the door locking behind them.

After Will heard the door close, he gently opened his eyes and looked around the room. He was alone again. He wanted to sit up and stretch, but the effects of the injections were still running rampant through his body. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering softly to himself as he fell into rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Will was startled awake by a blooming pressure in his lower back. He groaned softly, trying to twist his body over, but finding himself unable to budge. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing slightly at the blinding light above him. It took him several long moments to realize he’d woken up in an entirely different situation than he went to sleep in.

Will was dressed in a green hospital gown resting on his right side on top of a steel surgical table surrounded by several men in hazmat suits. Two men stood by his head and the rest were gathered behind him by his back. He started to become more and more aware of the pain in his lower back. He tried moving his head and noticed how incredibly dizzy it made him.

He could hear Dr Du Maurier’s voice giving instructions in the background: “Once you have successfully inserted the needle under the spinal cord, you can then begin carefully preparing to withdraw the CSF sample.”

“Doc..ter…” Will groaned softly, shifting slightly, trying to turn his head towards their direction.

The room went silent and all heads turned.

“Wha…What are you doing?” Will breathed quietly, opening his eyes half-lidded and trying to turn around, but hands grabbed him from all angles.

“Who got the dosage wrong again? This is the second subject this week to wake up during a procedure…” a woman’s voice called from behind him.

“Give him another shot. I want to be done by noon.”

“No…No, please,” Will tried to plead, but he was too weak to fight back whatever drug they’d administered to him before.

“Please don’t hurt me…” was all he could whine as he saw the figures shift around him, one of them standing directly in front of him and grabbed his right arm, lifting it into the air. Will desperately wanted to yank his arm back from the man, but he couldn’t find the strength to. The man grabbed hold of his upper arm and suddenly Will felt the quick sting of a needle in his bicep followed by a cool sensation throughout his upper body.

“ _Ah! Fuck, no…goddammit…_ ” Will growled, twisting away as much as he could. The man placed a cotton swab over the insertion point and held pressure on it to stop any bleeding.

“This one’s got quite the mouth…” another voice spoke behind him, but Will didn’t register it. All the voices around him slowly started to fade away and seem distant. His vision went blurry and he began quickly experiencing feelings of disassociation. He left his body and saw the whole scene of men and women in white coats and blue gloves and medical masks huddled around him, sticking a long, painful-looking needle in his back and draining out a clear, yellowish fluid and placing it into several small jars.

He wanted with all his soul to struggle, but he had lost all connection with his body at this point. He was finding it harder and harder to understand what the white coats around him were saying, much less maintain consciousness.

_“Ugh…”_ he groaned before closing his eyes and finally succumbing to rest.

Will awoke with a start in his cot in his cell. He was dressed back in a teal jumpsuit that was stained with sweat from night terrors. He was unaware of how much time had passed or whether the previous event had happened. He quickly began unzipping his jumpsuit and tossing off the white t-shirt underneath. He slid his hand down his back and sure enough, he was met with a large white bandage.

As if on cue, the door unlocked and swiftly opened. Will jumped, quickly re-zipping his jumpsuit out of modesty as he looked up to see who entered. In stepped Dr Du Maurier in her usual garb of a professional blouse and long pencil skirt under a clean, white lab coat.

She smiled down at him in her usual condescending way and stepped over to his bedside. He instinctually scooted back.

“C-154…How are we today?”

“…Fine,” Will replied. He hated being referred to as a number, but he knew what would come if he chose not to respond to it. “What…did you do to me?” He asked, rubbing a hand down his back again and fumbling with the outline of his bandage under his clothes.

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“What did you do to my back?” he explained, knowing that she already understood what he was talking about since she was in the very room when it happened.

“We extracted a sample of your spinal fluid for further testing. We need to make sure you’re at your healthiest before we begin the biopsies…”

“…Biopsies? What biopsies?!” Will cried. 

“How did you sleep last night?” she asked, glancing down at the small iPad in her hand.

“…How did I sleep?”

“Our recordings picked up on some rather violent thrashing during the night…” the doctor noted.

“Oh…I, um…I get pretty frequent night terrors…” Will confessed.

“How frequent are these night terrors?” she asked.

“Maybe…four to six nights out of the week.”

Dr Du Maurier hummed to herself and typed something on her device.

“I’m going to schedule you a polysomnogram. Sleep is essential to proper health and we can’t have you slipping on us,” she added, looking up.

Will had no clue what a polysomnogram was, but didn’t feel like asking her the definition.

“Now, the numbing agent from your last procedure has some lasting effects so I’d like to perform a routine check in with you,” the doctor spoke.

Will furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Sit here, please,” she instructed, pointing to the edge of the bed.

Will blinked and obeyed, sliding his legs over the side of the bed. His legs felt like they had pins and needles going through them and he noticed that his legs were still too numb to feel the cold flooring under him.

“Good. I’m going to prod you in different parts of your legs and you tell me if you can feel it. Understood?”

Will breathed in softly and nodded.

Dr Du Maurier bent down on one knee beside Will and took the edge of her pen and poked his left and right foot and asked Will whether he felt it.

Will confirmed that he couldn’t.

Gradually, she started going up both his legs until they reached the middle of his thigh. Anything below that was completely numb.

“This is unusual, but nothing to worry about,” she stated in her usual monotone voice. Will couldn’t tell whether she was telling the truth or lying to him in order to keep him calm. Either way, he was less than pleased at the fact that he was practically paralyzed from the thigh down.

“When is this uh…going to go away?”

“The medication wear off in about 12 hours. You’ve been asleep for 5 so you still have a ways to go.” 

“So am I just paralyzed for the next 7 hours then?” Will asked.

“Clinically speaking, yes, but that shouldn’t be an issue since we have a wheelchair present in case of emergencies,” she reminded.

Will groaned, hating the idea of being pushed around in a wheelchair. It was just another way that his freedom was taken from him.

“Uh, will I get to meet other, uhm…patients here?” Will asked as he watched her scribble notes down on her board.

“No,” the doctor replied, almost immediately.

Will stared at her in silence before asking why.

“Because this isn’t a daycare,” she shot back.

Will furrowed his brow, clearly taken back by her insulting remark.

“What so you’re the only other human being I can have a decent conversation with then?!” he blurted out.

“We as an organization are not invested in whether our subjects have decent conversations,” Dr Du Maurier answered blankly, shooting him an uncaring look. “You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter, medical care and nothing else. And if I am to be the ‘only other human’ to have decent conversations with, then I would best advise that you get along with me. Understood, C-154?”

Will was left speechless.

“Do you understand, C-154?” The doctor spoke up again, this time louder. Will would’ve been lying if he said she didn’t frighten him a bit.

“…I understand,” Will replied.

“Good. Your next test is in about an hour. Why don’t you rest for a bit in the meantime?” she asked.

“Uh…okay.”

“Do you need help with your legs?” She questioned, pointing to them.

“Uh…no I got it,” Will answered, swinging his legs back on the bed with a grunt and rearranging them flat on the covers.

The doctor placed her pen back in her coat pocket and stood to exit the room without saying a single word.

Will was left alone and shellshocked on the bed, his thoughts racing. He exhaled shakily and played back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what test would be waiting for him in the hour ahead. 


	5. Chapter 5

“C-154! Hey, wake up,” a loud voice startled Will awake. He jumped and instinctually sat up to find two guards staring down at him, as if they’d been watching him there for a while.

Will caught his breath and pulled himself up.

“We’re here to take you to your next procedure,” the first guard ordered.

“I, uh…I don’t think I can walk,” Will replied honestly.

One of the guards gestured to the wheelchair they’d already parked next to the bed. Will’s eyes widened to see sheep skin restraints looped on the arm and foot rests.

“Come on, then. Up-“ one of the guards instructed, reaching over to grab Will by his arm and usher him into the chair. Will fell in with a thud and began to hyperventilate as the guards immediately began strapping him down. He tugged at the bonds fruitlessly as they quickly rolled him out of the room and down into the hallway. It was unimaginably humiliating for him, but deep down, he understood that they had no reason to trust him at this point in the game.

The three of them made their way down the hall and to the left where they stopped at a door labeled “GASTRO.” Upon opening the door, Will was met with a small room with three nurses, several vials on the counter and a long table in the center of a room that sat below an enormous machine that Will couldn’t identify the purpose of.

“Just park him here, please,” the head nurse directed Will’s guards.

As they rolled his chair to the center of the room, Will felt his anxiety began to heighten again. He grasped the sides of the arm rests as he tried to steady his breathing. The guards left, leaving Will alone with the three nurses. They looked Will up and down, wrote notes down and talked between eachother between themselves before the head nurse measured out a cup of an unknown, thick, clear liquid.

She turned back to Will and moved into his view.

“Drink this,” she commanded.

“What is it?” Will asked nervously.

“Drink it,” she ordered again.

“I-I want to know what it is. Will it hurt me?” he asked, recoiling away from her.

“I said drink it or we’ll use force,” the nurse to his left shouted, causing Will to jump.

There was a moment of silence before the head nurse brought the cup up to his lips. Will figured that the only thing he could do was comply, so he allowed her to offer him the drink.

As soon as the substance touched his tongue, he immediately spat it out. It tasted like chalk and was extremely bitter.

The nurse paused, watching as Will reacted to the mystery solution before bringing it back up to his lips again.

“All of it,” she ordered.

“I can’t drink that. It tastes like poison,” Will confessed.

“I don’t care. Drink it.”

“NO! FUCK YOU, YOU HEARTLESS PRICKS-“ Will yelled, his hands clawing at the arm rests.

It felt good to get his anger out in one way or another, but that feeling didn’t last long. Before Will knew it, the nurses were already grabbing his head, tilting it back and shoving a bite block between his teeth, forcing his mouth open.

Will shrieked, struggling as much as he could with what he could still move as the nurses retrieved a long plastic tube. Will wished more than anything that he could retract his words, suck it up and just down the weird drink in one go, but at this point there was nothing he could do or say to stop them.

“Breathe through your nose,” the nurse to his right barked down as he felt a hand press against his forehead, tilting his head back.

Before he could brace himself, the head nurse was shoving the plastic tube down his gullet. It was one of the strangest feelings Will had ever felt in his life. He gagged and coughed, spasming as he felt the tube slide down his throat.

They didn’t push it down too far, only just past the point where he couldn’t swallow.

Will’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he tried to keep himself calm. The hand clamped over his forehead prevented him from writhing and damaging his esophagus. Soon, the head nurse took the cup of liquid again and stood over Will to pour the liquid down his throat. Will gagged automatically, his body trying its best to swallow or even eject the substance from his body, but the nurses were clearly professionals and this was definitely not their first time performing this procedure.

After they poured the contents of the vial down his throat, they casually removed the tube and placed it in one of the ‘hazardous’ bins.

Will gasped and sputtered, coughing uncontrollably.

_“Ugh…goddammit…”_ he muttered between coughs.

The nurses eyed the wall clock and mumbled between each other.

After about thirty seconds had passed, Will began feeling nauseated. His stomach began audibly growling and he gently curled in on himself, or as much as the wrist restraints would allow.

“God…what the hell did you give me?” Will grumbled, just quiet enough for it to constitute him talking to himself.

At this point, the nurses nodded to eachother and began untying his bonds.

  
“We’re going to transfer you to the table now. Stay still,” the head nurse told him.

Will’s legs were still a bit numb so he knew that there was no risk for the nurses involved and that he was hardly a threat in this state.

“Ready? One…two…three,” the nurses counted before lifting him off the chair and laying him flat on the table.

Will shivered at the cold surface and glanced up at the massive machine staring down at him. He jumped as he felt hands begin lifting his shirt and attaching 3 small wire leads to his stomach and strapping him down to the table, one strap over his chest, one across his waist, and one at his knees. Will furrowed his brow, not understanding why he needed to be tied down when he was complying and half-paralyzed, but when the table began to tilt upwards, his questions were answered: the straps were to keep him from falling.

Will looked over as the nurses began fiddling with the overhead machine and pulling it down to position directly over Will’s chest and stomach.

“Take a deep breath and stay still. We’ll be here for a while,” the head nurse instructed Will.

He said nothing, but nodded softly and laid back, trying to ignore the nausea building up inside him.

The nurses turned on one of the screens that was out of Will’s view and immediately began muttering to themselves and writing down notes, occasionally pointing and murmuring something Will was too far to understand.

The minutes passed by and Will had focused his attention to little distractions such as counting the squares on the ceiling or trying to recite the words to his favorite songs in his head. He figured he would need to do these little personal tasks in order to keep his sanity in a place like this.

He thought about Abigail, hoping that wherever she was, she was in a better place than he was. It broke his heart to think about the possibility of her suffering a similar fate as his. All he could do is try to remain as obedient as he could since Du Maurier had emphasized that she’d be safe as long as he obeyed. He couldn’t win.

“Alright, C-154, we’re finished with the procedure. We’re going to sit you up now,” the head nurse told him.

Will blinked, snapping himself away from his thoughts and turned to her. He watched as they unstrapped him, took off the electrodes, and lifted him back into the wheelchair. He could sense a bit more feeling in his legs since the last time he mentally checked, but he was in no way confident or stupid enough to try and make a run for it.

He was offered a glass of water, to which he eagerly accepted. His stomach was killing him and he was sure that he would vomit sometime soon.

After he downed his water in one swig, they strapped down his arms to the arm rests again and wheeled him back out the door and down the hall. One of the nurse’s walkie talkie buzzed and he quickly held it up to his ear, listened for a few moments, then turned to the other nurses with an annoyed look.

“There’s been a plumbing leak in hall 3B. We’ll need to take the C route,” the nurse told the others, who promptly turned Will’s wheelchair around and began heading the other way.

Will hadn’t seen this side of the facility before. It was cleaner, the walls were whiter and the lights didn’t even flicker every now and then like they did in the halls he usually passed through. They arrived at a small door with a keypad next to it.

One of the nurses crossed in front of Will and typed in the keypad the numbers 2998.

Will kept those numbers in the back of his mind. They might become useful in the future.

After the door buzzed open, they walked through another long corridor. At the end of the hall was a door that was labeled “Emergency Exit.”

Will’s brain seemed to light up like a light bulb, but before he could finish his thought, they chair took a hard turn and headed down another path.

They made their way through the halls that more and more seemed to resemble a maze until they reached more familiar territory to Will.Before he knew it, they were at his cell block. They pushed him through the doors and into his cell where they unstrapped him and helped him back onto the bed before exiting the room and locking the door behind them.

Will paused, thought for a minute to himself, and quickly looked around him for something to write on and write with. They didn’t give him any pencils or paper obviously, so instead, Will rolled himself off the bed and onto the ground. He crawled over to the wall behind his bed and used his fingernail and tried to carve “2998” into the wall. It barely made a scratch at first, but with some time, Will was able to make a faint indentation of the series of numbers.

After he was done, he sighed and crawled back into bed and stared up at the ceiling in thought. At least now he had something to plan.


	6. Chapter 6

Will was woken up again by the sound of his bracelet beeping and shortly after, two guards and three nurses entered his room. One of the nurses was carrying a medical bag and she immediately started unpacking it as soon as the team was in and the door was closed.

Will sat up instinctually and backed up against the wall.

“Easy, easy,” one of the nurses whispered to him, holding his arms out in front of him non-threateningly as he approached Will.

“Can you still feel your legs?” the nurse unpacking the medical bag asked him.

Will definitely could feel his legs at this point. He wasn’t sure if he could sprint or run a relay race, but he could definitely walk, however he needed to be smart about this.

“No, not really,” he lied.

The nurse wrote down a note on a pad of paper and turned her attention back to Will, handing him a cloth hospital gown and instructing him to put it on.

They did their usual check-up; blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, etc. By the end of it, they had confirmed that Will was in good enough help to proceed with the next procedure.

Will allowed himself to be lifted in the wheelchair yet again and have his wrists strapped to the armrests.

They wheeled him out and once again wheeled him back through the halls until they arrived at a pair of double doors marked “Surgery Ward.”

The doors swung open and Will’s heart fell immediately into his stomach and his face went pale.

There, in the center of the room was an operating table with leather straps on its arms and front legs. Behind it was an oxygen mask linked to a large machine, a heart and blood pressure monitor, and a team of surgeons awaiting for him. Across from the table was a large window where a group of young scientists sat and watched in anticipating for whatever was to come.

Will knew immediately that the experiment ahead of him wouldn’t be pleasant.

“No, no, no…” Will mumbled, instinctually leaning back into the chair, twisting his wrists in the restraints, but the nurses pushed him forward nonetheless.

“Please! Help! Someone help!” Will screamed at the figures behind the window, but none of them even flinched. They unstrapped Will’s wrists and hoisted him up onto the table.

“Is Dr DuMaurier here? I want to talk to her!” Will yelled.

As Will saw the nurses go in to restrain his arms and legs, he knew that it was now or never.

Using the newly recovered control over his legs, he used all his strength and kicked the nurse on his right square in the jaw. The nurse cried out and stumbled back. While the other nurse was in shock at watching what she thought was a paralyzed man almost knock out her colleague, Will used his other leg and socked her in the gut.

Will leapt off the table, stumbling a bit, and turning to grab one of the scalpels off the tray.

“Stay back!” Will screamed, holding the knife out in front of him with a shaky hand. The figures behind the window gasped, cried out, never seeing a patient rebel like this before a procedure. The nurses held their arms out non-threateningly.

“C-154, put the knife down…”

“I’m not listening to a goddamn thing you fuckers say. For Christs sakes, how do all of you sleep at night?!” Will cried out, eyes spanning across the room at the nurses, surgeons, and onlookers.

He slid along the wall, creeping closer to the exit, still holding the scalpel out in front of him.

“We have families! We have lives! We’re not your fucking lab rats!” he screamed, voice cracking as his hand felt the wall behind him for a doorknob.

“Stay calm, we’re not going to hurt you…” the lead surgeon spoke to Will calmly as the nurses began to close in on him.

“Bullshit!” Will barked, swinging the knife in front of him maniacally.

The nurses stopped, backing up slightly to avoid being in Will’s range of attack.

Will’s hand finally hit the doorknob and he grasped it tightly, swinging it open behind him without turning his back on the doctors.

Will stood in the doorway, hands trembling in front of him.

“You people are SICK, do you hear me!? You’re all FUCKING sick!” he screamed as he suddenly turned and bolted down the hallway.

“GET HIM! BRING HIM BACK UNHARMED!” a voice behind him screamed.

Will could already hear the frantic footprints of the guards running after him. He raced through corridors left and right, trying desperately to find the door with the key code that he saw earlier that day. If he could just get to the door, he’d be half way free.

As he sprinted down the corridor clumsily, coming close to tripping on multiple instances but powering through, he ran past a few nurses mingling in the hallway. The second they saw him, their expressions dropped. Will ignored them and ran past them, only to hear a few seconds later the alarm blare over the loudspeakers.

Will panicked, continuing to run in search for the door to the emergency exit.

He could feel the pressure rising. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He knew that every second mattered at this point in the game.

He scrambled, trying to retrace his steps from where he was earlier today, knowing that he couldn’t afford to stop and look around. There was a team of guards on his tail and even pausing for a few moments could give him up.

Just as he was about to give up and find another way out, he finally found it: a small door with a keypad next to it. Will’s heart leapt for joy as he pressed the numbers 2998.

It didn’t work. His hands were trembling, maybe he fumbled up the code.

Will furrowed his brow and tried again: 2998.

“Goddammit!” he yelled to himself in frustration.

“C-154! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Will heard a voice scream from behind him

“Come on, come on, come on!” he cried to himself.

He tried it one more time: 2 9 9 8

Ding, the doors buzzed open.

Will smiled, laughing to himself in a fit of pure glee. He ran through the door, slamming it behind him.

He looked through the window of the door and saw the crowd of guards hurrying towards him. Will smiled and held up his middle finger to the crowd before turning on his heel and ran down the hall.

His heart skipped a beat. He was finally on the path to freedom.

He ran as fast as he he felt he had ever run before, his bare feet tapping against the cold linoleum. He saw the door to the exit just up ahead. He felt like he could almost feel the sunlight on his skin or the wind through his hair.

He rushed to the door and swung it open.

There was an empty parking lot, dead silence, and no other doors.

It was a trap.

“…What?!” Will cried.

Suddenly, Will felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder.

He screamed and dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder protectively.

When he worked as a cop, he was shot on duty and this felt dangerously similar to that.

He groaned, slowly looking over his shoulder to find the tall, blonde doctor in her usual white lab coat and pencil skirt, standing in the doorway with a handgun in her grasp.

Will looked at her in shock, then removed his hand from his shoulder to find it drenched in blood, then looked back up at her again with confused eyes, not fully processing what she’d just done.

Dr Du Maurier lowered her weapon and slid it back in her belt holster and crossed her arms as she watched Will stumble forward.

“You…shot me?! You fucking shot me?!” Will called out to her.

He tried to stand up, but he was losing blood fast and he stumbled forward.

The doctor turned behind her and made a motion to the guards and in seconds, they rushed to his side, restraining him and applying pressure to his wound. Will hissed in pain as they lifted him onto a gurney and strapped him down. He writhed and struggled violently as they pushed him back into the main building, undoing all the work he’d done in attempting escape.

Will watched as overhead lights passed him one by one as they pushed him back towards the halls.

“That was a good try there, buddy,” the nurse on his right said.

Will felt tears well up in his eyes and in a few moments, he found himself completely sobbing.

Dr Du Maurier, who was following close behind him, glanced down at Will in his teary state, then quickly looked back up, unfazed. She looked at him as if he was a child throwing a temper tantrum in front of guests.

Once they arrived back at the surgery ward, Dr Du Maurier stepped forward.

“Get him on the table. Let’s get this done already…” the doctor huffed as Will felt himself being dragged over to the operating table once again.

“Get off me! Get the hell off me!” Will screamed as he was lifted by his underarms and transferred onto the table. Two nurses held him down as two more untied his hospital gown and lowered it to his waist. The next step they took was to sedate Will. He was now proven to be a dangerous and insubordinate patient, and this was to have immediate and future consequences.

They gave him an IV and immediately injected him with the sedative and the painkiller. Will groaned as he felt a low burn in his arm that spread up to his shoulder, and then…oblivion. While Will was in his fuzzy drugged state, he could barely find enough energy to fight back. He felt a sharp wave of dizziness fall over him and he found it incredibly hard to string a sentence together. He blinked harshly, as if trying to shake the sudden sleepiness out as he continued to struggle with as much energy as he had.

“I thought you wanted to bring him back _unharmed_ ,” the head surgeon mentioned to Du Maurier.

“Change of plans,” she replied quickly. “He made it out to the _‘parking lot_ ,’ but we got him before he could realize it’s a fake.”

Will was furious. Apparently he wasn’t as close to freedom as he had thought. He was incredibly annoyed in the moment as well since he’d love to be listening to anything other than Du Maurier’s condescension. Clearly, this was not a fast-acting sedative or he would be out by now.

Dr Du Maurier walked over to the table and smirked at Will like a lioness looking down at her freshly-caught prey. He stared up at her with an unfocused gaze, lolling his head to the side weakly.

“Don’t fight it, C-154,” Dr Du chided him.

“Sh…Shut up…SHUT UP!” Will cried, tossing his head from side to side as if trying to shake her voice from out of his head.

She patted the side of his face condescendingly and rested a hand on his shoulder as she looked back up at the team behind the window watching in suspense. Will recoiled and scowled back up at her, knowing in that moment that he lost the fight.

The nurses around him immediately began hooking him up to the machines and treating the bullet wound on his shoulder. Will knew that in this moment, there was no possible escape from this situation. They’d have their way with him not matter how much he screamed or struggled.

He began hearing the fast, but steady beeping of his own heart. He felt a pinch on his finger and flinched as they turned on the overhead surgery lamp.

“S..s..stop..” Will groaned softly as they lowered an oxygen mask over his face and strapped it around his head.

Will watched as Dr Du Maurier looked back up to talk to the surgeon, but her words seemed distant to him.

He felt his vision begin to swarm and his limbs go completely limp. The last thing he saw was Dr Du Maurier leaving the room and the doctors circling his body. Within seconds after this, he was out.


	7. Chapter 7

_One month earlier_

Abigail watched in horror as her father was chloroformed and carted away before climbing over the seat of the car and speeding into the distance. One of the officers hurried to the car and chased after her for several miles. Abigail was panicking, watching the GPS on her phone take her further and deeper into the forest.

They drove their way into a concrete tunnel. She kept her eyes on the road and her hands steady before making a hard U-turn that the car behind her wasn’t able to follow in time. The car crashed into the wall of the tunnel and Abigail sped through safely.

Tears streamed down her face as she raced down the empty streets. Her thoughts were racing. Should she go to the police? Should she tell Will’s friends in Montreal? What would she even say? ‘Hi, my name is Abigail, I’m 16, I live in Virginia and my dad was just kidnapped by men in white coats.’ There’s no way she could say it without sounding crazy.

Several minutes passed before she reached what actually looked like the boarder of Canada and America. There was a short line of cars and a long stretch of tollbooths, safety cones and a large sign that read “United States of America.” This had to be it.

She pulled up to one of the tollbooths, her hands trembling and her face dripping with perspiration.

“Good afternoon. Passport, please,” the man at the tollbooth instructed.

Abigail wanted to tell him everything in that moment. She wanted to tell him about the fake tollbooth about two miles away, the men in white coats and how they drugged and took her father away and chased her for two miles before she made it here, but as she looked up at the officer, she knew that he wouldn’t believe her. Being accused of being mentally ill or crazy would not help her get past the boarder.

“Name?” the officer asked.

“…Abigail Hobbs.”

“How old are you, Abigail Hobbs?”

“Im..I’m 16.”

Luckily, the driving age in Canada was 16, so checking Abigail’s driving license slipped his mind.

“Why are you visiting Canada today?”

“…We-…I was going to see friends in Montreal…” she mumbles, her voice breaking.

The officer nodded, flipping through her passport before taking a photo of it and finally letting her go.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” he told her.

She smiled and nodded in reply before slowly driving away.

Abigail couldn’t hold her composure any longer. She hung her head on the steering wheel and began to sob uncontrollably.

She had no idea what to do. The only thing she could think was to call Will’s friends from college that they were going to meet up with. She picked up Will’s phone, which was in one of the cup holders where he left it, and dialed the number of one of them.

“Hello?” Stephen’s voice replied.

“Stephen? Stephen, it’s Abigail…” She cried.

“Abby! Hey, are you guys on your way?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I…I…There’s been an..an accident,” she explained, her voice cracking.

“…An accident? What happened? Is your dad there? Let me speak to him.”

Abigail wanted to cry knowing that her father was unconscious in the back of a mystery van being taken to who knows where and that she may never see him again.

“He…he…”

“Is everything okay, Abigail?” Stephen asked again.

“I don’t…I don’t think I can tell you now. I’ll be at the house in 10 minutes,” she replied. She had never been in this type of situation before so she had no clue how to navigate one.

“…Alright…I’ll see you then…” he responded before she hung up.

She felt completely numb. Shock was quickly rolling over her, her face stained with tears and her hands sweaty and shaking. Abigail tried her hardest to hold back tears or calm her breathing, but every once in a while a whimper escaped her.

About 10 minutes later, she made it to a small town filled mostly with diners and antique shops. It was cozy, just like she remembered it when Will took her there a few years back. She followed the GPS route to a small house tucked away in the forest with crisp white walls, a green roof, and a wire fence. As soon as she pulled up, she heard the sound of dogs barking and the front door to the house opened. Out stepped a short skinny man with mousy brown hair and glasses. He waved to her hesitantly, knowing that something was definitely wrong but didn’t know how to respond.

She smiled weakly, hurrying over to Stephen and quickly unloading in her suitcase and Will’s duffle bag from the back and running over to him.

Stephen’s smile fell when he saw that Will wasn’t with her.

“Where’s your dad?” Stephen asked.

Abigail couldn’t bring herself to speak. She opened her mouth, but fear trapped her words and nothing came out.

Stephen’s smile dropped.

“...Abigail?”

“What happened?” he asked in a calm tone that still had an underline of fear.

Abigail sighed shakily, looked him in the eye and proceeded to tell him everything.

“They just…took him. I don’t know where or why but they took him and now I don’t know what to do,” Abigail sobbed after talking through the whole situation.

Stephen was silent, eyes wide.

“…Who took him?” Stephen asked quietly.

“These…men…a white van, they…they…I may never see him again,” Abigail sobbed between breaths.

Stephen inhaled shakily and looked up and down the street.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking her over paternally.

“N-No…”

“Did you call the police about this?”

“I…Not yet, I don’t…I don’t-“ she hyperventilated.

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re…we’re going to go inside. You’re going to go upstairs and unpack and I’m going to talk to the family about this,” Stephen responded.

Abigail nodded softly, wiping away a tear.

“We’re going to find him. Okay? We _will_ find him,” he reassured her, enveloping her in his arms.

She held him, tears staining his shirt. She couldn’t have imagined her day to end the way it did, but there was no way she was going to allow that moment to be the last time she saw her father.


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing that Will remembered upon waking up was pain. It started as just a dull pain- one he could still sleep through- and then it blossomed into sharp, deep strikes. He groaned before finally opening his eyes and realizing again where he was

It looked like a hospital room, only without windows and the only door being guarded by armed officers. He tried to sit up but found himself strapped to the bed by his wrists, ankles, and chest. The strap around his chest brushed against the bandage covering his shoulder and Will winced in pain.

The memories instantly started flooding in, the escape attempt, 2998, the familiar feeling of being shot.

He hadn’t even noticed that the heart monitor was going haywire.

In response to this, a nurse entered the room and approached Will. She pulled back the covers to his waist and started going over the daily check-in. She calmly took his blood pressure and pulse and Will silently appreciated the gentleness the nurse took in the process. She gently peeled back his eyelid to shine a light in his eyes. Will’s pupils were still blown from the amount of painkillers and sedatives he was still on. After she was done, she pulled the covers back up to Will’s chest and exited the room.

Will rested his head on the pillow and sighed. He was enjoying the bit of privacy he was getting in that moment, but of course it didn’t last long.

He heard the door unlock and open yet again, followed by the clacking of high heels against the concrete floor. Will wished more than anything that he could turn himself on his side facing the wall, but the restraints got in the way of that, so he turned his head away instead to face the wall. The person who walked in just now was the only person he didn’t want to see. He heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up by Will’s bedside and a small creek. Will scowled and continued to face away from her.

“Hello,” the doctor said in her usual deep sultry voice.

Will didn’t respond.

“You’re looking better,” she added.

Will remained silent. He had absolutely nothing pleasant to say to her and he’d learned to hold his tongue.

“I hope you’ll understand that disobedience is not tolerated in our facility. There will always be repercussions for violence or retaliation- especially escape attempts, but we are not an organization meant for the punishment of its’ subjects. There are ways in which to receive privileges or to help make your experience here more comfortable, but these are things you must earn. So far, you have _not_ shown enough progress in order to be considered for such privileges, but it is never too late,” Dr Du Maurier explained. “Is there something specific you’d like to work towards?”

Will paused and suddenly turned to her, making firm, un-breaking eye contact.

“I want to see my daughter,” he said plainly.

“That is out of the question.” 

“I want to know where she is,”

“I’m afraid we cannot disclose that information.”

“I want to call her. I know her number. Please, she has to know I’m okay,” Will begged, the desperation leaking from his voice.

Dr Du Maurier pursed her lips and made a note in her notepad and looked back up at him expressionless.

“I will discuss this with the team, but if approved, in return, we expect full and complete compliance in the future,” she explained. “If you remain non-compliant in the future, we will have no other choice but to restrain you to this room permanently for your procedures-or induce a coma-in order to get our results without putting us or yourself in danger. Is this something you’d want, C-154?”

Will’s eyes widened.

“…No ma’am.”

Finally, she stood up and headed for the door. Will sank back into his pillow and looked up at the ceiling in contemplation.

“In accordance with your behavior last night, I am ordering you to be confined to your bed for one week,” she stated.

“What?!” Will barked, turning back to her in disbelief.

“All experiments will be brought _to_ you, as well as your meals and daily physicals. The guards outside are on guard twenty four-seven, so don’t get any dumb ideas,” she continued, standing up and heading towards the door.

Will scowled at her, then looked back up at the ceiling in defeat as she signaled the guards to open the door.

“You’ve already seen what noncompliance brings, so why not try the other option?” she said before shutting the door behind her.

Will shuttered to himself and rested back on the bed.

Would compromising his freedom be worth talking to his daughter again? The first thought that popped in response was “yes, absolutely,” but giving up that freedom also meant giving up any chance to escape, which might lead him to Abigail faster-if at all. Also there was no way for Will to even hope to get out of the facility without earning the trust of the staff.

He hummed to himself, processing the decision when his thoughts were interrupted by two nurses entering the room and pacing to his bedside. Will instinctually recoiled, but the bonds didn’t allow for much movement.

“It’s okay, I’m here to check your wounds. Just stay still for me,” one of the nurses chided Will as they pulled the covers down to his hips.

Will was afraid to look down, but once he did, he saw one large bandage covering his shoulder, and a new one at the base of his stomach.

“What…did you do?” he mumbled.

The nurses shared a look and continued their work.

“Hey, I said what did you do to me?!” Will yelled.

Will’s raise in voice startled both the nurses and immediately Will felt regret. He knew that in order to gain the trust of the staff, he would have to start by not scaring them.

Will held his tongue and laid his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling and allowing the nurses to remove the bandages. He avoided the temptation to look down at the wounds. He could just tell they were large and definitely surgical.

“Take a deep breath,” one of the nurses ordered.

Will did as instructed and half way through his exhale, he felt a sharp searing pain over the scar on his stomach and he almost screamed in surprise. When he looked down he saw them cleaning the wound with ear cleaners dipped in alcohol.

“Just breathe,” the nurse responded calmly.

“Godda-mmmmm” Will growled, biting his tongue in case swearing costed him any points.

“Breathe. We’re almost done.”

Will took a deep breath through his nose and out his mouth, like how he was taught to in therapy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the fabric of the sheets under him. In a few seconds, they were already putting on the new bandage. Will exhaled as they smoothed it over and began moving onto his shoulder to do the same.

Will had the urge to bite the nurse tending to his shoulder, but he, again, kept it to himself. He bit back the pain better on this one now that he was expecting it.

After cleaning and redressing the wound, they unloaded a small metal contraption from the medical bag. It was a metal loop that Will immediately recognized as a tracking device.

He didn’t have enough time to protest before they walked right up to him and clipped the cuff around his left ankle. It clicked in place and Will knew that that little device just changed his entire mindset about escaping. Now that they had the ability to track him, there would be no way for him to truly make it out. His heart fell and he felt tears well up in his eyes. If there was such a slim chance he’d be able to make it out this time, would giving up be worth it if he could speak to Abigail again? Any possibility of a successful escape seemed to fly out the window in that moment so maybe agreeing to stay docile was the only way he’d ever be able to communicate with her again- if ever. He had no idea how long the facility planned to keep him, but Will figured that he knew too much at this point and might never be released. He tried to image the vastness of time and the possibility of him never feeling sunlight, feeling compassion from another or be treated as anything other than a piece of meat.

He couldn’t hide his emotions anymore and he began to sob. The nurses looked up, but quickly looked back down and continued their work of setting up the device. After the tracker was in place, they stood up, asked Will if he needed anything before they left, pulled the covers back up to his chest, and exited the room. Will looked down at himself, feeling the uncomfortable cuff tight around his ankle, and sighed.

He thought to himself and about the bargain made. He would give anything to in the world to know that Abigail was safe. The idea of Abigail suffering the same fate as him made him sick to his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the stress bubbling in him as the heart monitor behind him began to quicken its pace.

He figured he wouldn’t be able to make this decision in one day, so for now he rested himself back, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths in attempt to meditate.

This decision would take time and all he could do in the meantime was rest on it.


	9. Chapter 9

Several days passed and the experiments came and went. They’d given him several more tests, all from the discomfort of the same hospital bed. They tested his motor reflexes, collected more blood and saliva samples, and even brought an X-ray machine in and took several pictures of his toro, ribs and pelvis. Nurses came in several times a day to clean him so he wouldn’t get bedsores, and to occasionally change the sheets.

Over all the time of laying in bed, Will began losing a good portion of his muscle mass. He figured that this was a bonus for Du Maurier and the team because now even if he escaped again, he soon wouldn’t have the strength to run as far distance and at the speed he used to. The meals brought to him were low calorie and often very bland, but he didn’t have much of a say in that to begin with.

He tried to keep him thoughts optimistic. Overtime, he’d gotten over the embarrassment of having to be cleaned, having a catheter inserted, and basically be treated like a vegetable. This was all part of the test. He really wanted to show the doctors that he could be compliant. He barely spoke when the nurses were around him and followed their orders without question.

Will was also given a polysomnograph on one of the nights since his frequent nightmares caused him to struggle and writhe in his sleep, which made chafes around his wrists and ankles. He stayed put as a team of nurses attached seemingly hundreds of wires all over his head, chest, arms and legs, and strapped two belts around his chest and stomach to measure his breathing. They gave him an oxygen mask and put a clip on his finger to measure his blood-oxygen levels. Will had never had this many machines on him at once in his life and he found it difficult to follow orders when the nurses told him to “go to sleep like normal.” Being strapped to the bed in the process made it even more difficult. He wanted to speak up and say “have you all ever considered that being kidnapped and experimented on against my will might contribute to the night terrors?” but he didn’t think it would make a difference. He tilted his head from side to side, trying to find a good position while trying to not disrupt the wires. He closed his eyes, ignoring the dozen eyes on him, and gently dozing off.

That night, he dreamt that he was strapped to an autopsy table. No matter how much he screamed to tell the doctors around him that he was alive and could feel pain, the doctors silently continued their work. They placed the sharp blade of the scalpel over his chest and made their incision. Even thought it was a dream and Will couldn’t feel pain, he screamed nonetheless. They dug deeper and deeper, cutting away bone and muscle until they reached his heart. Will gurgled as he looked down at the doctor reaching deep into his chest cavity and pulling out his heart.

“Pretty thing, isn’t it?” the doctor said, holding the organ up to Will’s face. “We thank you for your contribution, Mr Graham.”

Will awoke with a start, screaming and thrashing against the restraints.

“Woah, woah! Calm down, C-154! It’s alright!” the head doctor cried, rushing to his bedside and holding his head in his hands.

“W-Wha…What?” Will asked.

“You were having a nightmare,” the doctor replied, beginning to take off the wires on Will’s scalp.

Will calmed his breathing as he looked around the room. He was still in the same, plain white hospital room surrounded by the same, blank-faced scientists. He exhaled shakily, his hands trembling.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

“No need to be sorry,” the doctor replied. “Lets get all this off a’ ya.”

——

Before he knew it, a week went by. Will had a difficult experience telling time while in the facility since he wasn’t allowed around any windows or doors, but he had slowly started using a system of telling what day it was by which nurses were tending to him that day. He never got to know any of their names, but he knew that the tall, male, skinny nurse with dark skin and glasses came in the mornings every other day and the older blonde female nurse took care of him in the evenings.

On the last day, Will was positive about his decision. He had had more than plenty of time to think about it and he knew what he needed to do in order to keep himself sane.

The tall skinny nurse came into his room that day, which told Will that it was the next morning. The nurse was followed by three armed guards and a wheelchair. Will’s heart leapt with excitement. Getting out of this wretched bed and this wretched room was all he wanted.

“How are you feeling, C-154?” the nurse asked, walking up to him and pulling the covers down to check on his wounds.

“Lucky,” Will replied.

  
“Good. We’re going to get you out of bed and get you into some new clothes, alright? You can hold onto me if you need to,” the nurse answered, crossing to the foot of the bed and slowly untied the ankle restraints. Will exhaled in relief as he gently bent his knees for the first time in a week, hearing cracks from his unused joints.

“We’re going to sit you up, now. Take a deep breath and hold it,” the nurse instructed after he finished untying Will’s wrists.

Will did as ordered as he felt a hand on his back sit him up. He groaned in pain, feeling his back screaming at him. It felt amazing, but Will was still undeniably in pain. He could not wait for his body to go back to normal.

“Dr Du Maurier will be meeting with you shortly. We’re gonna get all this stuff off your first though,” the nurse told Will as he immediately began plucking off the heart monitor, unstrapping the blood pressure cuff and removing his catheter, which was anything other than pleasant.

The nurse then began helping him into a clean pair of his normal uniform: white t shirt and teal jumpsuit. Afterwards, he began treating the wounds around his wrists. Will looked down and saw a large, angry, red rash around his wrists and ankles, most likely caused from all the struggling and thrashing he’d done in the past week. The nurse quickly returned and dressed his wounds, securing light bandages around them with tender care.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“I-I don’t know…I might need some help,” Will answered honestly as he swung his legs off the side of the bed, pulling the hospital gown up over his shoulders self consciously.

Will grabbed onto the shoulder of the nurse and the guard next to him as they transferred him to the chair. Will noticed how they didn’t strap or secure him down, proving that he had one a bit of their trust.

They rolled him out of the room and Will had never been so happy to see the hallway of a hospital before. Anything other than that one room seemed to be a fun new experience.

He needed to keep his brain focused on his goal: getting that phone call with Abigail.

What would he say? Oh god- what would he say? Has it really been that long? What if he slips up?

He rubbed his eyes with his palms and sighed.

“Where are we going?” he asked the nurse, looking up at him.

“You’ll see…” he responded.

Will furrowed his brow in thought before making their way down the hall to a door marked “interrogation.”

Will gulped and rubbed his hands together nervously as they pushed him through the doors.

There, in front of him, was a small room with nothing but a wooden table and security cameras on every corner. Standing behind the table were two armed guards, and Dr Du Maurier. She was dressed in black slacks, a white blouse and her usual white coat. She smirked ever-so-sligtly down at Will before gesturing to the table in front of him. Will stared at her in anticipation, hoping to hear any news about his request.

“Hello C-154,” she spoke calmly.

Will nodded in response.

She unclipped a piece of paper from the clipboard and handed it to him.

He took it and instantly began reading, scanning every word and drinking in the message like fine wine.

“…It…got approved?” Will mumbled as he looked up at her, almost refusing to believe it.

“Your behavior this week has improved and, as discussed, we are willing to reward this behavior if you promise to sustain it in the future,” she answered. “IF you’ve decided to- that is…”

Will looked up at her, then back down to the paper, then up at her again with a determined look in his eyes.

“Absolutely,” he answered, laying the paper down on the table.

“Under several circumstances as you can read at the bottom,” the doctor began, her tone immediately switching to professional-mode.

“You will be restricted to five minutes. You are not permitted to disclose any information about the experiments and procedures conducted, any description of the facility or any mention of names or appearances of staff members. The call will be made from a burner phone that will be destroyed immediately after its use, so don’t try to encourage try to hint at tracing the call. You will release this statement at a point in the conversation,” she emphasized, pointing to the bolded words at the bottom of the page, “and any failure to comply with the needs met will result in immediate termination of the call and severe punishment.”

Will’s eyes welled with tears at the thought of hearing Abigail’s voice again, of telling her that he was alive and that everything’s going to be okay. He tried to keep his composure, but he eventually broke, sobbing into his hands.

Dr Du Maurier stopped at the sight of Will’s reaction, not fully knowing how to respond. She hesitated before digging into her pocket and handing him a pen.

“…Just sign at the bottom here…”

Will sniffled, taking the pen and slowly signing his name at the bottom, sealing the deal.

Dr Du Maurier looked over the document once, twice, then a third time before setting it to the side on the table and digging into her pocket.

She retrieved a small, flip phone and placed it face up on the table in front of Will.

“…Go ahead.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad chapter ahead y'all

Will felt frozen, staring down at the phone as if everything in his life had come to this moment. Abigail was only a phone call away.

“Do I need to repeat the guidelines?” Du Maurier asked, waiting impatiently for Will to make a move. 

“…No,” Will answered blankly.

“Good. You may proceed,” she stated, staring him down as if she was expecting him to break every rule within the first minute.

He breathed in through his nose and calmly picked up the phone. He flipped it open and dialed in Abigail’s number, which he had been reciting by heart for the past several days. He held the phone receiver to his ear and waited for a response, perspiration gathering on his brow.

The pauses between beeps felt like hours apart.

She wasn’t picking up.

Will looked down then looked back up at the doctor, then at the two men guarding the door. The silence in the room felt thick enough to cut through.

“Hi! You’ve reached Abigail Graham. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye!” Abigail’s voicemail rang.

Will hung his head, thankful to hear her voice again, but not in this way.

“…May I try again, please?” he asked the doctor in a kind of cool, composed tone that was of a man on the brink of rage, but was keeping it suppressed for the sake of the situation. He lifted his head up and making firm eye contact with the doctor.

“You may,” she replied. “Put it on speaker this time.”

Will dialed the number again and listened.

A moment went by, ring…ring…ring.

“…Hello?” Abigail’s voice answered.

Will’s heart rate spiked. He inhaled and hung his head, on the verge of tears. Hearing her voice was like mana from heaven.

“…Hello? Who is this?” her voice repeated.

“Abigail, it’s me,” he replied with tears in his eyes.

There was a long pause.

“…Oh my god…Oh my god! Dad?! Holy shit- where are you?!”

Will looked up at Dr Du Maurier, the two of them sharing a death stare.

“I…I don’t know,” Will replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know?! Are you ok?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I’m…I’m safe,” he replied shakily.

“Oh my god, dad, what happened?!”

“I…don’t want to talk about that right now. Where are you?” Will asked, eyeing the doctor with a look that said _“I know the rules and I’m complying.”_

“I’m at Stephen and Clair’s-“

“Oh thank god, you’re safe,” Will sighed. That was all he needed to hear in order to sleep well that night. “I need you to stay there, sweetheart. I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to get to you,” Will said.

Dr Du Maurier’s eyes narrowed on Will, but let the comment slide.

“Are they still keeping you there; the men in the white van? Did they hurt you? Are they listening right now?!” Abigail cried.

Will winced at the question. Even if the doctor _wasn’t_ listening in, he couldn’t have the heart to tell Abigail the truth. It would break her to know what they were putting him through.

“No, I’m fine. I’m…being treated very well,” Will answered, cringing at his own words.

“Then why won’t they let you leave?! This is fucking ridiculous!” Abigail yelled.

“Hey! Watch your language, Abigail,” he told her, a finger pointing in the air.

Dr Du Maurier’s brow smoothed and her heart sunk slightly at the sight of Will speaking so paternally. It was extremely rare she saw the humanity in her patience.

“No! I won’t calm down! I need to know how to help you!”

Dr Du Maurier looked down at her wrist watch and held up three fingers, indicating to Will that he had three more minutes left.

He nodded to her and looked back down at the table nervously.

“I just needed to know that you were safe…and that you knew I was safe,” he told her.

“…When are you coming home?” She asked him.

“I..I don’t know. Hopefully soon, but…I can’t say.”

“If you won’t let me help you then you need to try, dad! You need to fight this!”

“I’m trying, Abigail. I’m trying so hard,” Will replied, breaking into a sob.

The guards looked uncomfortably at each other as tears streamed down Will’s cheeks.

“What happened after they took you away?!” Abigail cried.

Clearly she wanted all the answers, but there was so little that Will was allowed to reveal.

“I…I was…” Will looked up at the doctor who was glaring down at him. The two shared a silent conversation; Will pleading her to let him reveal some sort of truth to his daughter while she in turn shot him a look that reminded him of the immediate consequences of such an action.

“I’m…I’m fine. That’s all you need to know. I’m safe here and being taken care of,” Will lied. He looked down at the paper in front of him and began reading the bold font that he was instructed to read off.

“I’m…I’m under the weather and I’m being held in a…professional facility that is providing me the care I need…” Will said, reading off the script. Clearly, he was a horrendous actor.

“…You’re lying. I know you are! Dad, tell me what’s going on!” Abigail called, getting more and more agitated as the conversation progressed.

“This isn’t productive. I don’t have much time,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “What would help me is talking about something else...How is Stephen and the family?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Abigail paused.

“What?”

“How is Stephen and the family, Abigail!” Will barked back, almost angry.

“Um…They’re…they’re good. We, uh, we watched a movie last night,” Abigail said.

“What movie?”

Abigail paused, not fully understanding Will’s sudden interest in the little parts of her day, but all Will wanted was a distraction- something to take his mind away from anything else that was happening in his world.

“Um, I think it was some documentary about the Cold War. I didn’t find it that interesting but Stephen’s into that kinda stuff.”

Will smirked. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he…What are you gonna have for dinner tonight?”

“Dad, none of this matters- I need to know-“

“ _What are you having for dinner tonight?”_ Will interrupted, his voice stern, paternal, and spoken through gritted teeth.

Abigail paused, recognizing her father’s shift of tone when he was angry.

“Um…Clair is making a fettuccini I think…with some special sauce that’s never the same twice yaknow? Last time we had it, it was terrible-too much salt. It can’t be good for your arteries,” Abigail joked.

Will laughed to himself, but soon felt tears rise in his eyes again.

  
Dr Du Maurier held up one finger, signaling to Will that he had one minute.

“Abigail, I don’t have much time. I need to tell you that…I love you…I love you and everything’s going to be ok. Please, I need you to stay with Stephen, stay safe- don’t go back to the spot we lost each other and please don’t try to find me. I need you to promise me that you’ll stay safe. Please, Abigail…” he spoke.

“…I…I can’t just give up on you! What kind of a daughter would-“

“Please, sweetheart. I am begging you. Please promise me,” he whimpered, his eyes blinded by tears.

“I-I promise,” Abigail choked, her voice cracking under tears. “When will I get to speak to you again?”

“I…I don’t know,” Will spoke, looking up at Dr Du Maurier for an answer to that question, but she simply shook her head.

“Not…for a long time I think,” he answered, feeling a tear roll down his cheek.

“Then how will I know you’re safe?! Or still alive or anything?!”

Dr Du Maurier listened to the young girl’s voice and felt a twinge at her heart strings, something she hadn’t felt before in her work for decades.

“I’m…I’m still working on that, but I’m going to find a way, okay? I’m going to find a way to get to you,” Will told her.

This wasn’t a lie.

“Please come home. Wherever you are, please try to come home. Please promise me that,”

“I…I promise,” Will said.

“Abigail?…I love yo-“ suddenly, the call was abruptly ended at the 5 minutes mark. Will felt frozen, his hand stuck gripping the phone.

“…Abigail?”

“It’s done, C-154,” Dr Du Maurier told him sternly, like a parent telling their child that TV time was over.

Will didn’t respond, his hand gripped tightly around the phone, his eyes red and teary and his jaw clenched.

“C-154!” She called to him, approaching the table. “C-154, answer when you’re spoken to!”

_“My name is Will,”_ Will stated quietly, not in an angry or frustrated way, but instead as if he was just stating a fact.

Du Maurier sighed and ran a hand down her face. “It’s time to go, C-154,” she told him in a motherly tone.

Will’s eyes remained frozen and hand couldn’t bare to let go of the phone. He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, lowering his head in defeat.

A guard approached him and wrangled the phone from his hand, prying his fingers off one by one. Will broke into a sob, his head falling into his arms down on the desk.

The guards shared a judgmental look with Dr Du Maurier, who returned the gesture to them. She sighed and looked up.

“We’ll…give you some time to absorb this,” she said, ushering the guards to roll him back to his normal cell.They rolled him out the door and down the hallway as Will held in his tears. He just stared ahead of him like a zombie, looking down at the floor with cold, dead eyes. He looked completely defeated.

Dr Du Maurier looked at him for the first time with sympathy. A phone call had never been granted to a patient before in this way, but Will was different. He was a valuable asset to the facility and his DNA was vital to the advancement of their cause. Once they saw how much trouble he could cause when he rebelled, his cooperation was something to be treasured.

She breathed a shaky sigh as she rubbed her temples. She couldn’t allow her thoughts to get the best of her.

She followed him out of the room and all the way back to Will’s assigned cell. They helped him stand up and walk to the bed. He stumbled his way to the bed and pulled himself into a seating position to lean against the head board and stared down at the ground as if in a catatonic state.

After the guards had left, Dr Du Maurier stood in the doorway and looked down at Will in sympathy.

“Good night, Will,” she said plainly.

Will furrowed his brow and looked up at her.

That was the first time she’d called him by his first name.

She smiled softly in a way that only someone who was looking closely for it would catch, before she quickly closed the door, locking it behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

Back in Montreal, Stephen and his family sat at the dinner table bantering over who should have won the last football game or something of that nature while Abigail was up in her room changing.

There was a muffled voice coming from her bedroom and Stephen, being overprotective of her in this sensitive time, ran upstairs immediately to check on her. He heard Abigail’s voice through the door and was about to knock when he heard the words “Then why won’t they let you leave?! This is fucking ridiculous!”

“Abigail?” Stephen called quietly from behind the door.

“No! I won’t calm down! I need to know how to help you!” Abigail shouted.

Stephen’s face went pale as he placed his ear against the door. Was she talking to Will? And if so, how?!

He listened closely to her half the conversation until the call was ended.

“…Dad? Dad?! Hello?!” Abigail called.

Stephen knocked politely and seconds later, Abigail answered with tears streaming down her face.

  
“Abigail, was that…?”

She broke into sobs and immediately crumbled into his arms.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay…” Stephen consoled. He honestly didn’t know what to do in this situation.

“He’s…He’s okay. They’re -they’re holding him hostage or something- he won’t tell me anything,” Abigail explained.

“What?! What do you mean?”

“I think they were listening or they had a gun to his head or something- he was acting strange...”

“Wait…” Stephen paused, looking up. “Your cell phone has caller ID, right?”

“…Yeah,” Abigail answered between sniffles. “But it came from an unknown caller.”

“Dammit…” Stephen whispered.

“But…I think it could still be traced right? -If we give it over to the police?” Abigail asked.

The two shared a look of immediate understanding, as if a lightbulb had lit over their heads.

“Get your coat. We’re going downtown,” Stephen told her.

**——————**

After the emotional fiasco with Will and his daughter, Dr Du Maurier sat in her office and pondered her stance towards Will. Never before had she stood back and examined her relationship to a patient in this way. They hadn’t allowed a phone call in years and none of them struck Bedelia as much as Will’s did; the desperation in his voice, hearing his own daughter sobbing over the speaker, the uncomfortable humanization of it all.

It changed her view on him as a person. He felt more like a person to her now.

She immediately realized that this was a major issue that she had to remove herself from. This would affect her work dramatically if she left this unhandled. She could not allow herself to go soft, or put his feelings above the agenda at hand. This could have the potential to put her job, the experiments, and the project in jeopardy.

She knew she had to distance herself from Will from here on out.

She opened her laptop and prepared to write several emails she wasn’t looking forward to writing.


	12. Chapter 12

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

After several weeks of tests after tests, and lots of time to think on both Will and Dr Du Maurier’s parts, a new doctor entered the facility.

His hair was a mousy grey and was slicked back and combed neatly. He had deep-set amber eyes and sharp cheekbones and strong, broad shoulders. He wore a clean, navy blue suit and a floral red tie and black dress shoes, and he carried a tan suitcase in one hand.

He paced down the clean, chrome halls methodically before entering a white waiting room. He headed to the woman behind the reception desk and smiled at her.

“Hello, I’m here for my meeting with Dr Bedelia Du Maurier at 2:30pm,” he told her.

“Alright, let’s see…” the receptionist mumbled, fiddling with the various papers scattered around the desk before pressing a button on the phone receiver.

“Dr Du Maurier, your 2:30 is here,”

_“Perfect, send him in,”_ Dr Du Maurier’s voice replied. 

“Just right through these doors, sir. Her office is the third door on your left.”

The doctor thanked her and made his way through the main double doors, past the nurses in white coats and various armed guards. He gave them a respectful nod as he passed them and they did the same in return.

He finally came to the third door on the left which read _“Bedelia Du Maurier, MD.”_ He knocked on the door softly, which was met with a polite _“Come in.”_

He entered the room to find the tall, blonde doctor sitting behind her desk. She looked tired, as if she had a horrible night’s sleep the day before, but was trying to push through the shift. She stood when she entered and held out her hand.

“Hello, you must be Dr Hannibal Lecter. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dr Du Maurier spoke.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Dr Lecter replied, shaking her hand and sitting in one of the leather seats across from her desk. “Thank you for informing me about this position.”

“Of course. We appreciate you coming on such short notice. I’m sure you’ve read the file I sent you, but just as a reminder: This job is not an easy one. My work involves a level of security and emotional separation.”

“I can imagine,” Hannibal replied.

“For reasons I am restricted from speaking on, I am stepping down from one of my duties. This duty pertains to a specific patient of our’s. He was brought in about two months ago and possess incredibly valuable genetic material that is vital to our research. He is also very unpredictable and has proven himself to be potentially violent,” Dr Du Maurier explained.

“Violent how?” Dr Lecter asked, furrowing his brow.

“He attempted an escape several weeks ago. He injured two of our nurses and would have injured others had we not stopped him in time.”

Hannibal simply nodded as if to say: _“I understand the risks of taking on this case, but I am prepared enough to handle them.”_

“I must step down from his case, but as he is one of our most valuable and yet difficult subjects, I am assigning another doctor to his supervision,” she explained further.

“Yes, I’ve read through a bit of his file and I understand the responsibility. Is there anything else I should know before taking on this case?” Dr Lecter asked.

Dr Du Maurier sighed and winced at the thought of the next sentence.

“…I believe he has a daughter. They were together when he was collected and he speaks of her often. This may seem irrelevant, but you might hear of this information down the road and I implore you not to lose your ground or allow yourself to be swayed in any way,” Dr Du Maurier told him.

“I understand fully,” Hannibal answered, making direct eye contact with her.

“Perfect. Why don’t we take a walk down to the cell block?” She asked, standing up and motioning to the door. “Feel free to leave your bag here if you’d like. We’ll be back in the office to sign some paperwork anyway.”

Hannibal nodded and set his bag down and followed her out into the corridor. They passed through hallway after hallway until getting to one large secure bolted door with two guards at each side.

“We’ve needed to upgrade our security in these past few days,” Dr Du Maurier explained.

“Understandably so,” Hannibal responded as the guards stepped aside and opened the door for them to pass.

This hallway was dark and had various doctors with clipboards casually looking over at the left wall. Upon turning a corner, Dr Lecter saw that the whole left side of the hallway were large 15-foot windows that looked into separate cells. As they walked through, Hannibal saw faces of men in teal jumpsuits, some sitting on the bed, some wandering aimlessly around the room, and some were full on shouting and banging the glass to try to get the attention of those on the other side.

They continued to walk until they arrived at cell 16.

There stood a haggard, thin man with pale skin, chocolate curls, and blue-ish green eyes. He had bags under his eyes and stubble that hadn’t been trimmed in several days. He was sitting nonchalantly and leaning against the wall by the window, his right leg bent and his arm resting on his knee. When the two doctors arrived outside his cell, he turned and looked down at them with a face that lacked expression. His eyes shifted from Dr Du Maurier to Dr Lecter plainly, then turned away from them again.

This patient was strikingly handsome; there was no doubt about that.

Beside his cell was a small chart that stated:

**Patient #: C-154**

**Sex: Male**

**Age: 35**

**Height: 5’9’’**

**Weight: 133 lbs**

**Race: Caucasian**

**Blood type: O+**

**WARNING: HIGH RISK. DO NOT REMOVE FROM CELL UNRESTRAINED.**

After reading Will’s description, Hannibal looked back up at the man and studied his face. Even as Dr Du Maurier began explaining Will’s medical history and past procedures, Hannibal found her voice fading into the background. There was something about this man that was fascinating to him, regardless of his biological value- He just couldn’t put his finger on it though.

“-And most of all, if he manipulates you or tries to tap into your headspace, you must inform one of your fellow doctors immediately and you will be safely removed from the situation. Is this understood?”

Hannibal brought himself back to reality and turned away from the window.

“Absolutely,” he replied confidently.

“Excellent. Let’s get your paperwork settled then,” said the doctor as she ushered him away, but just before they left his sight, Hannibal shared a brief moment of eye contact with Will. That little moment they shared together would spark something much greater down the line, but neither one of them knew it yet.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Will was awoken by the usual beeping sound of the his wrist bracelet. At this point, Will had come to the conclusion that it was some kind of alarm clock-tracker-thing. He groaned and slowly sat up in bed, knowing that guards would soon march their way in and take him to his next experiment. Sure enough, two nurses arrived with a pair of handcuffs. Will sighed and approached them, turning away from them and placing his arms behind his back- he didn’t even have to be asked.

They turned him back around and began frog-marching him down the hall. They turned several corners before arriving at a large room with an MRI machine and a large window which showed a group of figures watching from the sidelines. Will nonchalantly gazed around the room at the technicians behind the window, his eyes landing on Dr Du Maurier and a tall, handsome doctor standing beside her. Will had never seen _this_ doctor before and he furrowed his brow ever-so-slightly in curiosity.

The two men made brief eye contact before Will was woken out of his trance by the orders of the guard behind him.

“Up on the table,” he commanded.

Will sighed and obeyed, lifting himself up on the slab and allowing himself to lay back and adjust himself.

“Arms above your head,” the guard instructed.

Will did just that and groaned internally as he felt someone link a pair of sheepskin restraints around his wrists, binding them above his head to the table.

He was handed two orange foam plugs to put in his ears and felt a small pillow slide under his knees, bending them at a comfortable angle. He stared up at the pale florescent lights on the ceiling and listened to the voices of the technicians discussing behind him.

Dr Lecter watched as the nurse walked up to Will, whispered something to his ear level. Will nodded and they began taking off Will’s ankle cuff and metal bracelet.

“You’re alright with removing the tracking devices?” Hannibal asked Du Maurier.

“No metal objects can go in the MRI for the procedure, and besides, he’s become much more docile in these past few weeks,” Dr Du Maurier mentioned to Hannibal as they watched him behind the window.

“What do you think caused such a change?” Hannibal asked.

“…I’m not sure. One way or another, they all break,” the doctor replied, knowing full well that the phone call completely destroyed Will’s hopes. She figured that Will’s attitude had ties with the phone call to his daughter that she allowed, but she wasn’t willing to tell Hannibal about that instance for now.

“You will remain still and follow any instructions given by the nurses. Failure to comply will result in immediate chemical restraint. Understand?” one of the guards to his left spoke.

His voice was muffled to Will, but he could assume what the guard was saying due to the hundreds of times they’ve told him the rules before.

Will closed his eyes and nodded. Not long after, he felt the platform move under him and slowly guide him through the mouth of the machine.

“Where did he come from?” Hannibal asked Dr Du Maurier casually, not taking his eyes off of Will.

“Most of C-154’s personal history is kept separate. His passport said he was originally from Louisiana, but we found him trying to cross the American-Canadian boarder. We don’t have access to his family or medical history outside of what we’ve collected here or what we’ve been able to get out of him,” she answered.

Dr Lecter hummed in reply.

“It’s probably for the best. God forbid anyone get attached,” Dr Du Maurier added.

“Of course,” Hannibal replied professionally.

A soft beeping of Dr Du Maurier’s phone interrupted his thoughts. She looked down and saw a notification on her home screen and turned back to Hannibal.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m needed in endocrinology. You don’t mind monitoring the rest of the procedure on your own, do you?”

“Not at all. Please, attend to your duties,” Dr Lecter told her politely with a soft smile.

She thanked him and exited the room, a guard loyally at her side.

Hannibal turned back to the scene in front of him again, this time in privacy. He focused on Will’s subtle, automatic movements; the faint twitch of his fingers, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the movement of his eyes under his eyelids. The doctor made a mental note to sneak in his sketchbook the next time he had another moment like this.

He pulled up one of the rolling chairs and parked himself in front of the monitors, eyeing the numbers and data that slowly began streaming in. He knew that the sudden fascination he had with this specific patient was boarding unprofessional, but he made no attempt to stop it. How could he remain as cold and unfeeling as Dr Du Maurier expected him to be when this man had sparked such a flame in his interest?

He crossed his legs and leaned back slightly in the chair, continuing to watch the man who was completely unaware of the events that were about to ensue.

About an hour passed before Will felt the platform under him shift back out from the machine and he was unhooked. He sat up, looking blankly over to the guards for any further direction. They instructed him to put his arms behind his back and face the far wall.

Hannibal watched them link cuffs around his wrists and turn him back around to exit the room. Hannibal opened the door to the hallway and hurried up to the group as they guided Will back to the cell floor. Hannibal stayed close behind them, watching as they frog marched him down the corridors and finally to this cell block and door.

As they’d done too many times before, they guards then unhooked him and Will walked into his cell and sat on the bed calmly. Hannibal watched curiously through the small window in the door. Will rested his arms on his knees and ran his hands down his face. He turned his head to check if there was anyone watching him through the large glass panel wall before curling up in his bed in a fetal position and nodding off. Hannibal smirked softly and turned to exit the hallway.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Hannibal and a nurse arrived at Will’s cell as soon as the cameras alerted them of his waking. They found the patient sitting on the side of his bed with heavy bags under his eyes and a pale hue to his skin.

“Good morning, C-154,” Hannibal announced wearing a clean white lab coat and a clipboard under his arm.

Will looked up and furrowed his brow.

“Who are you?” Will asked with a bite to his tone.

“My name is Dr Hannibal Lecter. I will be overseeing your case from this moment forward.”

“…Where’s Du Maurier?” Will asked impolitely.

“Dr Du Maurier has been held up with other obligations and must step back from your case at this time. I will be taking her place as your primary physician and attendant,” Hannibal answered honestly.

Will scowled and looked away.

“I’m here to escort you to our first test of the day. Please put your h-“ Hannibal began, but Will cut him off immediately.

“Yeah, I know the drill,” Will said, grunting softly as he stood up and immediately turned around and crossed his hands behind his back, waiting for a guard to handcuff him.

Hannibal stepped back as the guard cuffed his patient and lead him out into the hallway. They marched him down, as usual, and arrived at a small room with a dentist chair in the center, a heart monitor, and a tray filled with several long syringes and bottles.

Will shuttered to himself before taking a deep breath. This wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. He hopped on the chair and rested his arms on the armrests, allowing himself to be strapped in around his wrists, ankles, and chest. The nurses around him unbuttoned the first few buttons of his jumpsuit and began attaching the leads to his chest. The nurse to Will’s left began an IV on the back of his hand and the nurse on Will’s right wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and a clip around his finger. Once the patient was secure and settled, Hannibal stepped back into the picture and sauntered up to Will politely.

“Alright C-154, here is how the experiment will go. We will begin by injecting you with several substances and record your vital signs. I will be asking you several questions along the way so I implore you to be honest and discreet with your answers. Do you understand?” Hannibal asked, looking back down at Will.

“…Yes,” Will answered plainly, as if not caring one way or another.

“Good. Nurse, please administer the first injection,” Hannibal told the nurse closest to him, who quickly retrieved the first syringe and stuck it in Will’s IV port.

Will took a deep breath and blinked, feeling a touch of coldness in his arm as the concoction mixed in his blood.

“…Alright, good. C-154, how do you feel?” Hannibal asked.

“No different,” Will answered.

“No headaches? Nausea?”

“No, and no,” Will replied softly, keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him, emotionless.

  
Hannibal scribbled some notes on the pen pad before nodding to the nurse, who began injecting the second syringe into his port.

Will sat silently for a few moments before suddenly, a wave of calmness fell over him. His head suddenly went fuzzy and he felt as if he was underwater. It was pleasant and felt something similar to when he would take marijuana in college with his roommates.

“C-154? How do you feel now? ‘Any different?” Hannibal asked.

The corners of Will’s mouth curled slightly as he nodded heavily.

“Uh…Yeah. ‘Feelin’ good,” he answered with a slight smile. He felt unexplainably happy in the moment despite the circumstances. Being held captive to be experimented on like a guinea pig didn’t seem so unpleasant in the moment.

“…Subject’s heart rate has decreased by 27% percent, blood pressure has risen by 42%, subject appears in a euphoric, trance-like state. Administering third dose…” Hannibal’s voice echoed behind him.

“Yea’ I’ll take some more of whatever that wuz, d’cter…” Will mumbled, raveling and unraveling his fists and blinking his eyes slowly.

  
Hannibal took some more notes down before turning back to Will.

“Can you describe how you’re feeling, C-154?” the doctor asked.

“Feelin’…Imma feelin’ like I’m on cloud-9, doc…” Will slurred, lolling his head to the side closest to Hannibal and smirked up at the doctor with half-lidded eyes. “Yur pretty, ya know that?”

Hannibal paused, blushing softly, but quickly went back into the swing of the test, carefully eyeing the monitors and writing down Will’s vital signs on the spreadsheet.

The nurse beside him readied the third syringe and pressed it into the IV.

“We sh’d do tests like this all the time,” Will laughed, turning to the nurse at his side. “That’s the kinda-…”

Suddenly, Will grew tense, his muscles tightening and his stature immediately straightened. It was as if he was hit with a bolt of lightning.

“…C-154?” Hannibal called to him, shining a penlight in his eyes.

Will’s pupils were the size of dinner plates.

“C-154? Are you alright?” Hannibal asked.

Will didn’t respond, just staring at the wall opposite him.

“What the…What the hell was…” Will mumbled under his breath.

“C-154? C-154, what’s happening?” Hannibal asked, turning to the nurses. None of them seemed concerned and kept their attention on the monitors.

“I...ughhhh….” Will grumbled, his limbs beginning to tremble in fear at whatever he was seeing.

Hannibal turned back to one of the nurses.

“Are hallucinations a normal side effect of this?”

“Yes, hallucinations are common, but nothing to worry about,” the nurse replied.

“Ach!!…Oh my god…” Will mumbled, twisting his wrists in the restraints.

“Do you see something? What is it? Talk to me!” Hannibal shouted out at Will, following his gaze to the corner of the room.

_“Honey…Honey I don’t want you to-to see me like this…”_ Will whispered to himself.

Hannibal furrowed his brow.

  
“C-154! C-154, what do you see?”

“Honey, go back upstairs with your friends…Please, sweetheart…Abi-..Abigail-“ Will cried out, his eyes welling with tears and his fingernails digging into the seat.

Hannibal turned to the monitors to find Will’s heart rate at a 145 bpm and his blood pressure was through the roof.

“Is THIS normal?!” Hannibal asked the nurse, who only looked back at him nonchalantly.

“He’ll ride the wave, it’s fine. I suggest we start with the next dose,”

“Just hold on a moment, C-154? I need you to talk to me. What’s happening?”

“Please, can you just…god I think I’m going to vomit…” Will groaned.

“Alright, hold on…” Hannibal mumbled, looking around the room and spotting the trash can in the corner of the room. He quickly placed the clipboard down on the table and grabbed the can and held it up to Will just in time before Will profusely vomited into it. Hannibal rubbed Will’s back in an attempt to comfort him and Will appreciated the kind, almost parental gesture. He was so touch starved at this point that any touch was appreciated. 

Hannibal took out his handkerchief and wiped the sides of Will’s mouth.

“I…I’m sorry ‘bout that…” he whimpered.

“Don’t apologize,” Hannibal replied, folding up the handkerchief and placing it on the table.

“Sir, we need to continue,” the nurse spoke up from behind Hannibal.

“Just a moment, let him collect himself,” Hannibal barked back.

The nurse gave a side eye, but said nothing.

“I’m fine…Just give me the next dose. I’ll be fine,” Will breathed, catching his breath.

Hannibal looked at him in concern, but did as ordered.

“Subject experiences physical destress in response to substance 3…Vomiting, shaking, hallucinations…Heart rate has increased to 150 bpm…Proceeding with substance 4,” Hannibal spoke as he jotted notes down.

The nurse quickly plugged the next syringe into the IV and injected the substance into Will’s system.

Will squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for whatever physical reaction would come out of this. He was met with a sudden and intense wave of…something. It felt as if he was thrown into a freezing lake. His heart rate continued to climb and he instinctually clawed at the arm rests, nails making intentions in the chair.

“…C-154? What are you feeling now?” Hannibal asked.

Will stared forward, then suddenly, his gaze followed up the wall and onto the ceiling. Clearly, he was still hallucinating.

“Subject continues to experience hallucinations…” Hannibal wrote. “Heart rate has risen to…the dangerous rate of 163 beats per minute- We have to stop the procedure.”

“Excuse me? We are not under any orders to stop procedure unless-“

“It’s fine…It’s fine, I’m fine…” Will gasped between breaths.

“I’m afraid you have no say in this,” Hannibal told Will.

“I can do it! Really, I can do it. Just give me the last one so we can finish this for christ’s sake…” Will pled.

Hannibal looked at Will in sympathy, knowing how much pain he was in. Hannibal turned to the nurse, who was more than eager to continue. It seemed like everyone in the room wanted this over with.

“Please proceed with the last dose,” Hannibal ordered the nurse, who did just that.

Will braced himself again, but this time, nothing happened. The three men sat in silence, one waiting for the other to make a move, or just for anything to happen at all.

Suddenly, Will inhaled sharply and sat up straighter, squeezing his eyes shut.

“C-154? How do you feel?” Hannibal asked.

“I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’….” Suddenly, Will’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and he went limp, his head hanging against his chest, the heart monitor beeping at a speed Hannibal had never seen before in his medical career.

“C-154?...”

Hannibal pressed a hand to Will’s hot forehead, lifting up his head and shining a penlight in his eyes.

The doctor sighed and picked up the clipboard again.

“Patient loses consciousness 28 seconds after administering dose 5…Experiment will be pulled to a close.”

Hannibal ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at the unconscious man before him.

“He’ll be okay,” the nurse told Hannibal reassuringly. “They always are.”

Hannibal felt unnerved by this statement, but chose to ignore it.

A few seconds later, Will’s eyes fluttered open, taking a deep breath and looking around the room.

“C-154? Hey, it’s alright…We lost you there for a bit, but you’re back,” Hannibal turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“W…Wha- Oh god, my head…”

“Subject returns to consciousness approximately…19 seconds later…complains of head pain,” Hannibal recorded. “Heart rate has lowered to 157, blood pressure lowering steadily…You’re going to be okay.”

Will focused on his breathing as he blinked hazily.

“Can I please lay down now?” Will asked.

Hannibal glanced down at the note pad to see if there was anything else they needed to do before they let Will go for the day.

“Of course,” Hannibal answered in response. “Nurse, would you please order a gurney to take him back to his cell?”

“I can walk…” Will mumbled.

“I’d highly advise against it,” Hannibal replied blankly.

“I can do it. I’d really like to walk,” Will answered under half-lidded eyes.

Hannibal debated in his head whether to give Will the benefit of the doubt, but after he saw the pain that Will had gone through in order to get their results, Hannibal didn’t see too much of an issue.

“Very well,” the doctor responded, helping the nurse beside him undo Will’s wrist and leg restraints and helping him up. Will got to his feet and tried to balance himself. His vision was swarming and he felt extremely dizzy.

He was lead towards the door and into the hallway. He took a few shaky steps forward before tripping over himself and tumbling to the floor, landing on his front and crashing his head against the hard flooring.

Hannibal leapt into action, hurrying to Will’s side.

“I need a gurney, now!” he yelled to the nurse, who rushed down the hall.

“C-154? Can you hear me?” Hannibal called to Will, but the man seemed to be completely out.

  
Hannibal rolled Will onto his back and pressed two fingers to the man’s neck to check his pulse and peeled back one of his eyes.

Seconds later, the nurse returned with a gurney. Hannibal scooped up the unconscious man in his arms bridal style and lifted him gently onto the gurney.

“C-154! Hey, I need you to open your eyes now…C-154?” Hannibal called to him, but there was no reply. Hannibal drew his attention to the newly forming bruise on Will’s temple, right where he hit the floor. If his patient got a concussion on his first experiment with him, he knew he’d never hear the end of it. He knew that what was done was done and he could do was make sure Will was comfortable and got the medical attention he needed.

The nurse suggested taking Will back to his holding cell, but Hannibal insisted that he be taken back to the infirmary in case of a head injury.

“Sir, with all due respect, the best option to save both our asses would be to take him back to the holding cell. There were no security cameras in that room so no one has to know. We got our results and if we take him to the infirmary, it’d be letting the cat out of the bag. Patients lose consciousness all the time, no one will even bat an eye. We should take him back to his cell- unless you’d rather get the blunt of Du Maurier’s check-in…” the nurse told Hannibal.

Hannibal paused. This was unlike any line of work he’d ever had. He knew when accepting the job that he would have to put on a cold persona in order to not grow emotionally attached to his patients, but he had also sworn an oath to do no harm and these two seemed to collide with each other.

He looked down at Will again in sympathy.

“He’s fine. He’ll probably just wake up with a headache,” the nurse spoke up again.

Hannibal rubbed his temples in frustration before sighing in defeat.

“Fine,” he said as he began pushing the gurney down the hall back to Will’s cell. He watched the man’s face and noted how peaceful he looked, the gentle curve of his lips, the rise and fall of his chest, his long eyelashes.

Hannibal genuinely didn’t want any harm to come to this man.

Once they arrived at Will’s cell and they were buzzed in, Hannibal lifted Will yet again and placed him softly on the cot. The man looked like a painting: Ophelia by John Everett Millais. The doctor sighed again and exited the room with the nurse at his side.

Even after they were buzzed out and walking back down the halls, Hannibal’s thoughts lingered on Will.

The nurse and Hannibal went their separate ways and Hannibal hurried to his office to retrieve his sketchbook and made his way back to Will’s room.

He was buzzed in again, and he quietly walked into the cell, admiring the man sleeping peacefully the way he’d left him; laying on his back, his left arm laying flat beside him and this other arm gently resting against his torso.

He looked almost angelic, like a marble statue in a church in France.

Hannibal smiled weakly and opened his sketchbook to a clean page. He walked to the wall opposite Will’s bed and began to sketch. It was an incredibly peaceful moment and Hannibal savored every second of it.

Several minutes later, Will began to stir. Hannibal debated whether to scramble out the door and pretend he was never there or greet him upon waking up. His nerves got the best of him and he chose the first option.

He slipped out of the room and locked the door behind him. He peered through the small window in the door to find Will groan and slowly sit up, cradling his head. It broke Hannibal’s heart to see the man in such pain. He turned on his heel and immediately saw Dr Du Maurier approach him from the other end of the hallway.

Dr Lecter froze, knowing that he was definitely in trouble with her.

“Dr Lecter, let’s have a talk, shall we?” she said, smiling softly and gesturing for him to follow her.

“Of course,” Hannibal replied respectfully as he followed her down the hall.

This couldn’t be good.


	15. Chapter 15

Hannibal sat across from Du Maurier’s desk as she typed on her laptop in front of her.

“Would you like to discuss what happened earlier today?” she asked him calmly.

_‘Which part?’_ Hannibal thought.

“C-154 had an accident. He tripped and hit his head,” Hannibal answered plainly.

“According to my records, he had just undergone a procedure which limited his motor functions, correct?”

“We were testing multiple sample injections on him in the moment, yes,” Hannibal answered.

“How did he respond?” Du Maurier asked, but in a way as if she already knew the answer and just wanted to hear Hannibal say it.

“He…experienced hallucinations, agitation, panic…He lost consciousness for a bit.”

“Then what happened?”

“He wanted to lay down so we lead him back to his cell and he tripped.”

Dr Du Maurier drew her attention from the screen to Hannibal with a stern look.

“How did he trip when we provided a wheelchair?”

“He…insisted on walking.”

“And you allowed him?” Du Maurier asked.

“…Yes, I allowed him to walk,” Hannibal answered honestly.

Dr Du Maurier hummed and typed several notes on her keyboard.

“Now, I understand that the way we run things here might be a bit unorthodox, Dr Lecter, but you must understand that the way this system is built is to protect the safety of our staff and the security of our operation and the information gained from it. Patient C-154’s escape attempt several weeks ago endangered all three of these sacred values, therefore it is written into his record that he must be restrained at all times unless sedated or in a secure environment. I do not believe that the hallway was a secure environment, no?” she told him.

Hannibal took a deep breath and shook his head.

“This is your first week and you are a very well respected doctor in your field, so I will only write this off as a warning, but the rules must be followed from this point on. C-154 is a controversial case. He may try and convince you that he’s less dangerous than he is, but it is part of your job to remain steadfast. Is this understood?” Dr Du Maurier continued.

“Yes, of course. That incident will not happen again,” Hannibal replied.

“Glad to hear it. You are dismissed,” she responded, gesturing politely to the door.

Hannibal nodded, thanked her and left.

‘Phew, that was close,’ he thought as he smoothed down his tie and headed back to his office, holding his sketchbook tightly in hand, thankful that she never asked about it.

He headed back down the halls until he arrived at his new office, unpacked boxes neatly stacked against the wall. Hannibal sat himself down at his desk and looked around, seeing that there were obviously no security cameras in the room, before opening his sketchbook to his unfinished page.

He drank in the quick sketch of the sleeping man, his delicate hands, his sharp jawline, the natural waves of his dark brown hair. Hannibal sighed, retrieved his pencil from his pocket and proceeded to finish the portrait from memory. The image of the man was already imprinted in his mind. He wished he could have stayed longer, perhaps even greeted him when he woke, but that would have been deeply against protocol- or at least what _he_ _personally_ was allowed to do. A doctor wasn’t allowed in his presence without the use of restraints and Hannibal had no interest in strapping Will down just to wish him good morning.

Hannibal sighed as he sketched the small details on Will’s face; his long eyelashes, the curve of his lips, it seemed to him like every physical trait of this man was close to perfection. He wished he could hurry back to Will’s cell just to watch him through the door again and drink up the sight of him, but he figured it would be best to watch himself. Will was scheduled for another procedure tomorrow anyway.

Hannibal set the book aside and placed his pencil on the desk neatly and proceeded with the paperwork for tomorrow. He could hardly wait until then.


	16. Chapter 16

Back in Montreal, Stephen and Abigail rushed to the police station as soon as the call with Will ended. Abigail was trembling the whole way, her shaky hands clutching her cell phone as if everything in her life depended on the safe transport of it to the hands of a detective.

They hurried in the building and rushed to the front desk.

“How may I help you today?” the receptionist asked.

“I-I don’t really know how to say this, but my father was kidnapped a few weeks ago,”

The receptionist furrowed her brow and looked down at the girl.

“How long?” he asked.

“Uh, a few weeks,” Abigail said.

“And at what point did you decide to call the authorities?” the receptionist asked.

Stephen decided to step in.

“We waited a while for a few reasons- we didn’t know if we were being followed or under watch. Um, she had also undergone a serious traumatic event and I wanted to give her as much space and time as she needed-“ Stephen tried to explain but he was cut off.

“Sir, you do realize that you should have immediately come to the station. The first 24 hours after a kidnapping are the most vital moments,” the receptionist scolded.

“I understand, but-“

“I’m afraid after a few weeks, there is much less we can do about this situation. I can file a report for you and take down as much information as needed for investigation, but I cannot confirm or deny if-“

“He called me half an hour ago,” Abigail finally spoke.

The receptionist turned to her with a furrowed brow.

“You mean- your father?”

“He called me. I have the number right here. You can keep the phone for all I care,” Abigail explained, taking out her cell from her pocket and placing it on the desk confidently.

The receptionist looked up at her, then to Stephen, then down at the phone.

“…Let me get one of our officers on call. Please take a seat,” the receptionist instructed, gesturing to the seats in the waiting room.

As Abigail and Stephen sat nervously in the cheap folding chairs, Stephen patted Abigail’s back supportively. She smiled, holding in her emotions for the time being. She needed to stay strong in this moment. They were seconds away from being turned away so showing any sign of weakness or immaturity or being over-emotional would just weaken her case. 

Several minutes later, an officer called the two of them back into a small office.

“My name is Officer Sara Pierce,” she introduced herself. “Please, step into my office.”

She was a short, thin older woman with dark skin, braided hair and a grey suit with a purple blouse underneath and a silver necklace. She was accompanied by a squat man in a police uniform.

“You’re lucky that we’re so open to sudden appointments - we haven’t had many incidences lately,” Officer Pierce said. “Now, tell us a bit about what’s going on.”

Abigail reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph of Will that she’d printed out at the house.

The photo of Will was recent, within the year, and was of him and Abigail at a harvest festival back in October. Will was wearing one of his green flannels and a baseball cap and had a cheesy ‘thumbs-up’ pose with the other hand wrapped around Abigail’s shoulder. He looked happy, content, a much different man than Abigail remembered being carted away in a van.

Abigail placed the picture on the table and slid it towards Officer Pierce.

“My names is Abigail Graham. Two weeks ago, my dad, Will Graham, was kidnapped by a group of men a few miles south of the Canadian-American boarder. I…I witnessed it and they tried to get me too, but I escaped in time. I was afraid and we decided to stay in hiding for a bit since…they tried to follow me, but I got a call today and…it was him,” Abigail explained. “He told me that he was safe, he was fine, and that he was well taken care of, but…I could tell he was lying or that something was wrong. I still have the number from his call if you’d like to see. I know all of this sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.”

“Did you see where the men took your father?” Officer Pierce asked, picking up the photo and holding it to her eye level.

“No, they just…they put a cloth over his mouth and put him in a van and by that time, I got away. They chased me for a bit, but-“

“Can I see that phone, Abigail?” the officer asked.

Abigail paused and handed her the cell phone.

“This is the number?” Officer Pierce asked, pointing to the featured number under “recent calls.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The officer wrote down the number, jotted down a few notes and began a quiet conversation with the officer next to her.

Abigail and Stephen waited patiently while the two discussed the case.

Several moments later, Officer Pierce turned back to the two and folded her hands on the desk.

“I am more than willing to take your case, Miss Graham, but as difficult as it may be for you, I need you to tell me everything- every single detail. Can you do that for me?”

Abigail looked up at her with stern, determined eyes.

“Absolutely,” she answered.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, Hannibal checked into work, dropped his suitcase off at his office and read over the daily agenda for that day. He put on his coat and headed down the halls to the cell block. He was buzzed in, and paced his way down to Will’s cell. He peered through the window of the door to steal a peak of the man before he entered.

Will was washing his face in the sink, the top half of his jumpsuit unbuttoned and lowered around his waist while he wore his white t shirt that was usually worn underneath.

Hannibal noticed an enormous bruise on the side of Will’s head where he fell the day before. It looked terribly painful and Hannibal winced internally to himself.

The doctor took a deep breath, then signaled to the guard to buzz him in.

Will was startled by the buzz and he immediately jumped back and turned to the door.

Hannibal stood in the doorway with his clipboard and smiled down at Will.

“Good morning, C-154,” he spoke.

Will sighed, and turned away from Hannibal and put his hands behind his back, waiting for Hannibal to cuff him.

“Oh no, we’re not going to the test just yet. I’d actually like if we sat down and went over some simple check in questions,” Hannibal said, clicking his pen in his other hand.

Will just stared at him silently. Will wasn’t sure what the check in was for since it was unusual for a doctor to care about his mental health, so he was naturally cautious. This didn’t stop him from obeying Hannibal’s order and sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for a question.

Hannibal pulled up a stool from the hallway and set it a few feet away from Will.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Hannibal asked.

“My head is killing me,” Will answered almost immediately.

“Yes, I can see. Might I take a look at it?” Hannibal asked politely, standing up.

Will hesitated, not wanting to be touched. Staying in the facility for these past few months and only being touched for medical or examination purposes gave Will a new relationship to intimacy. He was both extremely touch starved and extremely on-edge.

Hannibal set down the clipboard and approached Will cautiously. He tilted Will’s chin up and placed a gentle hand on his forehead and Will automatically recoiled to the touch.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Hannibal whispered as he tilted Will’s head slightly, examining the massive bruise.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” Hannibal asked.

“A bit, yes, but that’s normal for me,” Will replied.

Hannibal hummed to himself and took out a penlight from his pocket and shone it in Will’s eyes. His pupillary response was normal.

“Good, follow my finger,” Hannibal directed, taking his pointer finger and moving it left and right across Will’s gaze. Will followed it effortlessly.

Hannibal wrote some notes down on his clipboard before sighing and looking back up at the man.

“Well the bad news is that you might have a minor concussion. The good news is that it's not serious enough to worry about and it’ll pass quickly. I’ll prescribe some pain killers. For the future, I should insist that you follow protocol. If I tell you to sit, you will sit, understood?” Hannibal asked.

Will slowly nodded.

“Good. Are you ready for your next session?” Hannibal asked, picking up his clipboard and holding it under his arm.

“...Sure,” Will answered plainly.

“Boys, if you will,” Hannibal called to the two guards behind the door, who entered and slapped a pair of cuffs around Will’s wrists and lead him out.

The four men walked down the hall to a small testing room with a metal chair and an IV bag hanging off a long pole beside the chair.

Will was transferred to the chair, restrained over his wrists, legs, and chest as usual and one of the attending nurses immediately started hooking Will up to the IV and connecting him to various machines behind him.

Will's t-shirt was lifted as they hooked him up to the heart monitor and Hannibal eyed the large bruise formed around Will's stomach. The doctor frowned and opened his mouth to ask about it, but nothing came out. 

“Is this one of the tests where I’m allowed to ask what’s happening?” Will asked, looking back up at Hannibal with uncaring eyes.

Hannibal looked down at his notes and then turned to the nurse next to him who gave him a shrug in response.

Hannibal was informed that he, as Will’s head doctor, was in complete control over what he wanted to tell Will about the experiments. He understood that there were certain benefits to not telling a patient the purpose of the experiment, such as a decrease in anxiety and the encouragement to not grow attached, but Hannibal decided against it.

“In this experiment, we will be testing a new drug that has a 45% success rate in decreasing dangerously high vital signs like heart rate and blood pressure, but has mixed effects when treated on patients with normal vitals,” Hannibal answered.

“Oh…” Will answered.

“Whether you experience a reaction will determine how we can best improve the drug. Does this make sense?” Hannibal asked.

“Uh…yeah. Will it hurt?” Will asked the doctor as the nurse beside him started the IV.

Will watched the clear fluid travel through the tube and slowly into the back of his hand.

“Most likely not, but be sure to tell us if it does,” Hannibal replied, jotting down the numbers on the machines behind Will.

  
They sat together in silence for a few moments, Will’s eyes wandering from the floor to the needle in his arm to the IV, while Hannibal’s eyes never left Will. Hannibal felt entranced by him. Every movement, every twitch of a finger, every rise and fall of his chest was perfect.

About five minutes went by before Will began expressing physical changes. He seemed more agitated and he was blinking more.

“C-154? How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked.

“My headache is getting worse,” Will answered honestly.

“How so?”

“It’s just…pounding now,” Will said, blinking his eyes harshly. “My…brain feels…spiky.”

“…Spiky…”

  
Hannibal hummed, writing some notes down before crossing the room and asking the nurse to retrieve a painkiller from the pharmacy down the hall.

After the nurse exited and Hannibal had Will all to himself, he stood directly in front of Will. He dug into his pocket and found a capped needle that was already ready.

Will furrowed his brow as he saw Hannibal plug the needle into the IV port and pressed down on the plunger. Will was extremely confused, but that confusion melted away as soon as the painkiller kicked in. Will exhaled shakily, feeling his muscles relax and the pain disappear. He smiled as the drugs took control of him.

“Thanks, doc…” Will slurred.

Hannibal felt almost as much relief as Will did in that moment. Seeing the man finally relax and be free of the pain that he was somewhat responsible for was soothing to him.

Hannibal looked up to find that there were no security cameras in the room. The doctor sat opposite from Will and smiled down at him.

“May I ask you a few questions, C-154?” Hannibal asked.

Will turned his attention back to Hannibal with half-hazy eyes.

“Sure.”

“Where were you born?” Hannibal asked.

Will frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“I would like to know more about you. Is that alright?” Hannibal asked, setting his hands in his lap.

Will sat, staring at him in silence. No one had ever asked him any personal information that didn’t have some medical element attached to it. No one had bothered to try to get to know him as a person.

“…Lousiana,” Will answered.

“Where is your accent, then?” Hannibal asked.

“Born in Lousiana but grew up further north, here and there. We moved around a lot,” Will replied. “Why are you asking me th-Are you a shrink?”

“I studied psychology for many years, yes. Now, tell me about your parents,” Hannibal questioned, crossing his legs.

“...My father repairs engine down in Florida. My mother died soon after I was born- never knew her,” Will spoke, flexing his hands a tad under the restraints.

“Do you have any siblings?” Hannibal asked.

“I have an older sister, but we lost touch a few years ago…”

Hannibal sighed and looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Will with a firm, steady gaze.

“Do you have a wife, Will?”

Will paused. Then he chuckled, then that chuckle turned into a full blown laughing fit.

“What?” Hannibal asked, a smile cracking under his professional mask. “Is that such a humorous question?”

“Being that I'm gay, it's pretty funny in my eyes,” Will spoke honestly.

Hannibal froze. He felt a rush of hundreds of emotions in that moment, but the greatest one that he recognized in himself was joy, pure joy. Hannibal was confused to why he felt such happiness at the fact that Will was gay, but he continued on.

“Do you…Do you have children?” the doctor asked.

Will’s smile fell immediately. His eye contact with Hannibal broke and he looked back down at the ground.

“…C-154?” Hannibal asked, trying to grab his attention again.

It was clear Will had no interest in talking about this subject with him.

“Yes, I have a daughter,” Will finally spoke, much quieter this time. “-Adopted.”

“How does she feel about you being here?” Hannibal asked.

It was obvious that Will did not want to answer this question. He frowned and a disgusted look spilled across his face.

“…How the _fuck_ do you think she feels?” Will growled.

Hannibal was jarred at Will’s sudden anger. He could tell he hit a nerve.

Almost as if on cue, the nurse reentered the room with a full syringe.

“Ah, thank you,” Hannibal asked. “-But I do believe C-154 is feeling much better, correct?” he added looking at Will for confirmation.

Will scowled at the two of them, then looked back down at the ground.

  
“How are you feeling now?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m feeling like I would do anything to get out of this goddamn chair and go back to bed,” Will answered.

Hannibal glanced down at Will then turned to discuss with the nurse about how much more they had to wait before clearing Will for the day.

Hannibal glanced up at the IV bag and saw that Will was a bit more than half-way done.

“I’m afraid bed might have to wait,” Hannibal confirmed, turning back to Will and the machines behind him.

“Well…what , are we just gonna sit here and glare at each other until then?” Will asked.

“Sir, if the patient is unruly, we can always muzzle him,” the nurse told Hannibal honestly.

Will snarled at her and mentally prepared himself to be strapped down even more and forcibly silenced.

Hannibal turned to her with confusion.

“No, there is no need for that at all,” he replied. “C-154 is experiencing stress and I do not wish to contribute to that by treating him like a rabid dog.”

Will’s frown softened and he looked up at Hannibal in confusion. This had never happened before when Dr Du Maurier was in charge of him. Will would have been muzzled a long time ago if she was still in charge. This new doctor had a funny way of running things…

“How is your head?” Hannibal asked, drawing his attention back to Will as he tilted his head up and brushed his hair to the side.

“It’s uh…feeling better…” Will answered quietly. He didn’t flinch this time at the doctor’s touch.

“That’s good. How about the dizziness? Nausea?”

“Uh…the nausea is down…I’m still a little dizzy though,” Will said.

“Hm…we’ll have to pay close attention to that then,” Hannibal commented, mostly to himself.

Will wanted to ask the new doctor a list of questions in that moment, but both of the men knew that as long as the nurse was in the room, something would probably be reported.

A few minutes went by with many “how do you feel now?”s and “what is your pain level?”s before the IV bag finally ran out.

Hannibal analyzed the monitors and went over another physical exam with Will.

They extracted several vials of blood and saliva samples before ordering a wheelchair.

“I can walk,” Will peeped as the nurse began untying him from the chair.

“I’m sure you can, but we don’t want there to be any more accidents,” Hannibal responded.

“That…That was different. I really can walk now,”

“Oh hush,” Hannibal snapped back. “It’s only for a few minutes until we get you to your room.”

Will rolled his eyes as the nurse helped him into the wheelchair and strapped him back down.

“I’ve got it from here, Eloise. You’re dismissed,” Hannibal told the nurse, who thanked him and exited the room.

Hannibal grabbed hold of the handles of the chair and began rolling Will down the corridors.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Will mumbled quietly while keeping his gaze straight ahead.

“I just find you interesting is all,” Hannibal replied.

“Everyone finds me _‘interesting’_ here. That’s the problem,” Will added with a growl.

“Yes, but I think I see can see a little further than everyone else,” Hannibal said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shh, keep your voice down. We’re almost there,” Hannibal whispered, nodding politely to the passing doctors and nurses while Will avoided contact with everyone as usual.

They reached Will’s cell and after they were buzzed in, Hannibal rolled Will in and removed the straps.

Will slowly stood up shakily, grabbing the side of the bed for balance.

“Maybe walking wasn’t a great idea then,” Will admitted as he sat himself down on the bed comfortably. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, but I do have one more question,” Hannibal began.

Will cocked his head slightly.

“What is your name?”

Will’s whole world froze. Time slowed down to a stop and a minutes felt like a century.

“My name?”

“Yes, I’d like to know your name.”

“I don’t…I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” Will whispered.

“I am your primary doctor now. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Hannibal and Will shared a silent moment before Will opened his mouth and-

“Will…My name is Will Graham.”

Hannibal’s senses flooded at the sound of the name. _Will Graham._ It was earthy, gentle, rolls off your tongue easily.

“That’s a lovely name,” Hannibal told him.

“Uh…thanks. It’s not like you’ll be hearing it a lot though. You wouldn’t want to get too attached to me, right? I’m just another guinea pig here,”

“No, you’re so much more than that- I can feel it. You’re unlike any other patient I’ve worked with,” Hannibal spilled to him.

Will frowned.

“Are you...are you making fun of me?

“No! Of course not. You’re fantastic. I really want to help you- really help you,” Hannibal said to him genuinely.

“What…What do you mean?” Will asked. He was extremely confused.

“What is something your heart and soul crave for, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“I-…” Will spoke, knowing the first thing that comes to mind is freedom and seeing Abigail, but he doubted that Hannibal would have any power in making that a reality. 

“I want to feel sunlight again,” Will told Hannibal. “There’s nothing I want more than to feel the sun on my skin and the grass and the dirt- just be able to feel like a human again. You…you can help me, right?”

Hannibal smiled and looked down at his clipboard, flipping one of the pages up to reveal his schedule for the week.

“Ask me again tomorrow maybe. Until then, get some rest. Lunch will be brought to you in about an hour,” the doctor instructed before folding the clipboard under his arm again and exiting.

Will was left alone and in the silence again, but this time, he felt like he was closer to a breakthrough than ever before. Finally, he had an ally.


	18. Chapter 18

Hannibal had thought very deeply about Will’s request, knowing that it was obviously out of the question in most circumstances. Hannibal thought over the idea of Will and him bonding enough for them to trust each other; Will trusting him to not hurt him or treat him like every other doctor did, and Hannibal trusting Will to obey the rules that he was still forced to follow. He wasn’t sure if they were at that place yet, but he had high hopes for a chance in the future. Will was an interesting case, but he needed to get to know him better.

Over the next week, Hannibal spent as much time with Will as he could within the proper boundaries. He made the effort of disabling the microphones in Will’s cell often so he could sit and have his lunch with him in the cell together. They had wonderful conversations about art, nature, and their lives before being involved in the experiments. Hannibal was overjoyed to learn about Will’s past life, how he was a teacher and loved dogs and would embarrass his daughter at her soccer matches by cheering a little too loud from the bleachers.

Will might not have been as interested in Hannibal as Hannibal was towards him, but it was still a nice distraction from his normal schedule. Hearing Hannibal’s stories of traveling around the world, his life in Italy, and Will even got to see Hannibal’s sketchbook. Hannibal never showed him the pages he drew of Will sleeping- those were just for his own amusement.

The two men began sharing a special bond. Hannibal saw him less and less as another science project and Will saw Hannibal less as another heartless cold machine. Will had even come to genuinely trust Hannibal, which was more than a big deal since the trust issues that Will have developed while in the facility seemed impossible to fix at this point.

Will had confided in Hannibal about all the horrors he’d experienced, all the procedures, the surgeries, and how damaging they were for his mental health. The surgeries were the worst. There’s nothing worse than being strapped to a table, forcibly sedated and left unconscious for a team of strangers to do whatever they wanted to you in that state. Hannibal felt an enormous amount of sympathy for this.

“Like, I’ve had surgeries in the past, but they were never like this- obviously. I’ve never had surgery against my will before I came here and I wouldn’t recommend the experience,” Will explained one afternoon as they ate lunch together in Will’s cell.

Hannibal chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t either. I’m sure it isn’t pleasant for the surgeon either.”

“Nah, most of the doctors here don’t give a shit about the mental wellbeing of their patients. We’re vessels for research and that’s it to them,” Will said, taking a bite out of his sandwich. 

“Well you’re much more than that to me,” Hannibal replied with a gentle smile.

Will looked up, made eye contact with Hannibal, then blushed and looked away.

“Uh…thank you. I would hope so at least,” Will commented, looking down in embarrassment. “-And you’re more than just another doctor.”

  
“Well thank you very much,” Hannibal replied graciously. “I should hope so as well.”

————

The day came, as it did every three weeks, for Will to have his monthly surgery. These surgeries were mostly biopsies, taking samples from major organs, and tissues, but others involved small implants and repairs to injuries. Whatever the purpose of them was, Will never enjoyed the process. It was always invasive, rough, and the doctors would never warn him of anything while it was happening.

Before being offered the position, Hannibal was thoroughly questioned over his experience as a surgeon and was even asked if he would be comfortable performing a surgical procedure on his assigned patients and he had answered that he would be.

Upon reading the agenda for the day, Hannibal immediately regretted his answer.

According to his chart, Will was scheduled for a liver biopsy, and Hannibal was on set to perform it.

Hannibal was almost about to go to Du Maurier herself and tell her that his answer has changed, but what would that say about him and Will’s relationship? He knew the severity that came with growing attached. He could instantly be removed from Will’s case and never see him again if the truth got out about his feelings towards him and vise versa. This was not something Hannibal could risk, so proving as much as he could that he had a cold, unattached feeling towards Will was his best bet to staying on his case. Will’s feelings no doubt would be hurt by the process, but it was for the greater good of their relationship.

Hannibal shivered to himself at the thought of having to perform the operation.

This man was more than his patient at this point- he was a companion. What companion straps the other to an operating table and carves into him like a Thanksgiving turkey?

He could only imagine what Will was feeling in this moment as well- when he remembered that Will was never told ahead of time when the surgeries would happen. Hannibal checked his watch and saw that he might have some time to run to Will’s cell and explain the situation.

Hannibal hurried down the hallway, checking his watch to make sure he had time before he had to escort Will to the operating theatre.

“Dr Lecter?” a voice behind him called and Hannibal looked back to find two nurses who he’d seen before in the halls.

“Next time, please wait up for us,” the nurse told him.

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Hannibal spoke, keeping his composure.

  
The three of them finally arrived at Will’s room. After they were buzzed in, they stepped inside and Will was standing in front of the sink. When the door opened, he turned, startled, but was relieved to see that it was only Hannibal and not another guard coming in to drag him off somewhere.

“C-154…” Hannibal began, looking at Will, then to the nurses.

Will stared back at him, then to the nurses and the nurses flipped their gaze from Will to Hannibal. Everyone in the room was waiting for something, but Hannibal was the only one who knew of what was about to go down.

Hannibal couldn’t spill anything in front of the nurses. He knew they would run back to Du Maurier or one of their superiors as soon as they saw something out of line- if the security cameras didn’t catch it already.

Hannibal sighed, closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking down at Will in a cold, professional stance.

“C-154, we’re here to take you to your procedure. Please sit on the bed with your hands on your knees,” Hannibal ordered, as he was expected to do. 

Will furrowed his brow, not used to hearing that kind of voice from Hannibal, but slowly obeyed.

Immediately, the two nurses descended on him, checking his morning vitals, his heart rate, blood-oxygen level, temperature, etc. Will continued to make firm eye contact with Hannibal all through it, as if he was questioning the intent of his check-in. After they deemed him healthy enough for the procedure, they immediately helped escort him down the halls with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Hannibal followed close behind them nervously. He had performed thousands of surgeries in his past, but none of them had made him as anxious as he was in that moment.

“How long ago were you a surgeon, Dr Lecter?” one of the nurses called over to Hannibal.

Will paused mentally and furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly to hear what the two behind him were saying.

“Five years ago,” Hannibal answered, almost in shame when he knew Will understood was about to happen.

“Hopefully this won’t be too outside your comfort zone.”

“Yes, I uh, have performed many biopsies in the past. I have no doubt this will be different,” Dr Lecter lied.

Will understood now. He was going to be operated on by Hannibal. Neither one of them were ecstatic about that.

The four men paced down the halls until they arrived at the operating room.

Will had been through several surgeries while in custody and none of them were pleasant, but there was a very unfamiliar form of discomfort in this situation. Will considered Hannibal an ally- a companion even- and having the knowledge that he was about to have him strapped down and sliced into against his will was nothing less than frightening.

The guards un-cuffed him and instructed him to remove his t shirt and lie on the table. Will exhaled shakily and did as instructed. As soon as he took his t-shirt off, Hannibal took in the site of Will’s form. He was thin, his ribs peaking out and his arms scrawnier than the first time he saw him. He had a healed bullet wound on his shoulder and large black letters printed over the side of his chest reading "C-154." It was then that Hannibal looked down and saw the array of large bruises covering Will’s torso, around his stomach and his sternum area. It was jarring to him, as someone who loved and cared about Will very much. He remembered catching a peak of the bruises before, but seeing them up, front, and center was alarming and extremely concerning. Will had never brought up the bruises before and Hannibal had never asked him about them.

Will hopped up on the table, as instructed, and layed supine, shivering against the cold metal. Hannibal was ushered to the side to disinfect his hands and change into his surgeons scrubs.

As both men began being prepared for surgery, one to be administering and the other to be administered _on,_ Will had a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. Will was strapped down by his wrists and ankles and hooked up to a heart monitor, blood pressure cuff and pulse oximeter. The nurse next to him took a purple surgical marker and began making marks along the side of his stomach. Will looked down, but the nurse pressed a hand to his forehead and pushed his head back down and an opaque oxygen mask was strapped around his mouth.

Once Hannibal was prepared for surgery, he took a deep breath and approached the table.

As soon as Will saw Hannibal in his full surgeons scrubs, panic flooded his eyes.

“Hannibal, call it off. Tell them to call it off,” Will tried to say, but the oxygen mask also worked as a sound suppressor and the phrase only came out as a muffle.

The guilt that flooded Hannibal’s heart seemed almost unbearable in the moment. Will had trusted him and this was a point where he had to put his job over Will’s emotional wellbeing, and it was excruciating.

Will stared at him from behind the oxygen mask- making firm eye contact. Will wished that Hannibal use the power he had, stop the procedure, and deem it as unnecessary. There was no way Hannibal would allow this operation to continue knowing how much of a part he’d have in it.

Hannibal was about to give up, turn to the nurses and tell them that he couldn’t proceed through the operation, when the nurse quickly asked if he was ready. Hannibal didn’t think and automatically nodded.

“Good, bring in the group,” the nurse called. Hannibal looked behind him to see the doors swing open and ten men and women in surgery scrubs and clipboards walk in.

“I hope you won’t mind that we bring in our students to oversee the procedure,” the nurse told Hannibal.

“Of course not. Welcome in,” Hannibal spoke, but deep within him, he was panicking.

It was hard enough telling the group of nurses to call off the procedure, but now there were ten more to tell. He would also be questioned why he couldn’t complete the procedure and his answer could get him fired.

There was no easy way to say “I have developed a close-knit relationship with the subject with unprofessional feelings that boarder romantic, therefore I cannot with a sound mind perform this surgery.”

He knew that there was no suitable excuse to pass on the operation.

Will didn’t take his eyes off Hannibal, not even flinching when the nurse beside him inserted the IV. Hannibal glanced down at Will in sympathy, his eyes telling the man _“I am so sorry for what I’m about to do.”_

“Welcome,” Hannibal turned to the students. “Today, we will be performing a standard biopsy of the right lobe of the human liver.”

Will was shocked that Hannibal was going to go through with the procedure. He tried to speak up and struggle, but the oxygen mask muffled his words.

“The…patient is prepped and vitals are steady,”

_“You son of a bitch!”_ Will tried to scream, thrashing against the restraints, but it only came out as a quiet muffle.

“As you can see, the patient is extremely agitated and has a history of being violent, so nurse, please proceed to sedate the subject so we can begin,” Hannibal spoke, avoiding Will’s eye contact.

Will was furious. His trust is Hannibal was broken from that moment on. He was just another doctor hired to poke and prod him until they were done with him.

Will struggled, thrashing and kicking as the nurse inserted a loaded needle into his IV.

Will turned back to Hannibal with pleading eyes, begging him to do anything- anything to stand up for him and his freedoms, but Hannibal didn’t even glance down. The doctor needed to stay focused. Every look he gave Will lowered his defenses and enabled the guilt to rise and he couldn’t allow that in that moment.

Will began feeling the familiar fuzziness of the drugs. He blinked his eyes slowly and heard the slowing of his own heart rate on the machine. He tried to reach for Hannibal’s coat, but he was just out of reach.

Hannibal had his back turned to Will. He couldn’t bear to watch him be forcibly put down like a sick dog.

With the last of his strength, Will pounded his fist against the table and kicked as hard as he could in order to grab Hannibal’s attention. It didn’t work. Hannibal continued to speak towards the small crowd of students, ignoring Will’s plea and focusing on describing the procedure to them.

He muffled something inaudible through the mask before his head lolled to the side and his eyes shut.

Hannibal glanced back at Will and reached into his pocket to retrieve a pen light. He peeled back Will’s eyelid and checked his pupillary response. He was out cold.

Hannibal sighed shakily. Having Will out relieved a bit of the guilt. Seeing the betrayed look in Will’s eyes was too painful for him to endure.

Hannibal walked around the table, putting a space between him and the students.

“We first make sure the patient is asleep and comfortable…” Hannibal began, turning to the anesthesiologist, who was finishing up on inserting the tube down Will’s throat. “Then, we will perform a quick ultrasound to determine the placement of the liver. The liver is protected by the rib cage and some parts of it are exposed more than others- it varies from person to person. Now, the ultrasound wand, please-“

The nurse beside him rolled over the ultrasound machine and dabbed a glob of clear jelly on the end of the wand and handed it to Hannibal. Hannibal took it gently and immediately began rolling it over Will’s ribcage as the rest of the students watched the monitor.

“Aaanndddd…Here we are,” Hannibal spoke up, keeping a solid eye on the screen. “There she is. Now that we’ve detected the exact position of the liver, we can begin the procedure.”

Hannibal took a sterile wipe and cleaned off the excess jelly before feeling the space between Will’s ribs on his right side.

“Good, now scalpel…” Hannibal conducted, holding his hand out and a surgical knife was placed in his palm.

A nurse quickly disinfected the area before Hannibal took the scalpel and began his work.

“I make an incision between the ribs as you see here…” he began, doing as such.

For the first time in his entire surgical career, Hannibal began feeling squeamish as he saw the blood began to trickle out of the wound, but a nurse quickly wiped it away.

“Good, now that the path is cleared, we can dive deep and get our sample.”

The students watched carefully as Hannibal took a long biopsy needle and dived it skillfully into Will’s side.

With expert precision, Hannibal scraped a sample of the surface of Will’s liver. Once the needle was extracted, Hannibal placed the tissue on a Petri dish and enclosed it, sealing it shut.

“This subject has a standard, healthy liver function and this tissue will help act as a control sample for the next series of series of tests we’ll be doing regarding study 14-B,” Hannibal explained.

The students jotted down several notes, exchanging their view from Will to Hannibal, then back to their papers.

“This procedure is fairly simple and takes only around 10 minutes if done correctly. Afterwards, the patient will require a local anesthetic and will need to be closely watched for the next 12 hours,” Hannibal continued as the nurse beside him started to dress Will’s wound.

Hannibal still couldn’t shake the sight of the bruises along Will’s stomach. It was deeply troubling, but he figured that he’d ask Will about it once they get on better footing.

“I will take questions at this time,” Hannibal spoke.

As hands went up and questions were asked, Hannibal tried to his best to keep his composure and professionalism. He spoke calmly and answered each question efficiently, but all he could think of was the act of betrayal this must have felt like to Will. Hannibal could feel his anger, his disgust, even all the way up to the moment before he was knocked out.

As the nurses lifted Will from the table to the gurney and began rolling him out back to his cell, Hannibal wondered what their usual morning conversation would be like tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((TW in this chapter for self-harm))

The next morning, Hannibal straightened his tie, checked into work and readied himself to head to Will’s cell. He knew the conversation that had to happen then was going to be difficult. Will would be angry and Hannibal needed to prepare for that.

Hannibal entered the cell block and immediately knew something was wrong. He scurried to Will’s door and found it wide open.

He hurried up to find a group of armed guards standing over Will, who was curled up on the ground in a fetal position, kicking the ever-loving shit out of him; kicking him in the stomach, the chest, grabbing him by his clothes and throwing him against the bed.

“Stop! Please! What on earth are you doing?!” Hannibal screamed as he stood frozen in the doorway.

“Dr Lecter! We didn’t know when you’d be-“ one of the guards tried to explain before Hannibal rushed over, pushing the two burly men aside and kneeling down beside Will, who was shivering helplessly on the floor.

Will was half-conscious, bleeding from his nose and trembling.

“What is happening?! What have you done?!” Hannibal cried, lifting Will’s head and placing it on his lap protectively, smoothing a hand over his hair. “He’s just had surgery! What on earth are you thinking?!”

“C-154 was attempting to self harm,” the guard behind Hannibal spoke up.

Hannibal froze.

“…What?”

“You can check the security footage, sir. We caught him banging his head against the sink and punching himself in his stomach. We tried to stop him, but he attacked us so we had to subdue him,”

“When I walked in, he was cowering on the ground! This is not discipline! This is cruel!” Hannibal scolded them.

Will groaned as Hannibal ran his hand over his hair, savoring any kind form of physical contact. Will suddenly cried out in pain when Hannibal’s hand touched Will’s left arm.

Hannibal looked down and saw that his arm was bent in an unnatural way. It was broken.

“You broke his arm…” Hannibal mumbled in disbelief.

“We…never intended to, sir. We were just trying to get him to-“

“This is unacceptable beyond words, gentlemen. Absolutely unacceptable. You think the proper punishment for a mental health crisis is a broken bone?!” Hannibal shouted at them.

“We didn’t mean to break his arm, sir. One of us must have gotten carried awa-“

“This is a man under an enormous amount of stress and this type of treatment is encouraging the problem. I never want to see this type of behavior from you both again! I should fire you right now if I had any sense in me!”

The two men looked at each other in confusion, imaging how different Du Maurier’s reaction would be if she was the one who walked in. She’d probably give them a slap on the wrist and send Will to the infirmary and never speak of the situation again.

Hannibal cradled Will in his arms, hushing him like a parent with their child that had just fell off a swing and skinned their knee. The nurses looked down at the two in confusion.

“Get out- both of you- and get a nurse for Christs sake!” Hannibal ordered. The two guards paused, but slowly obeyed the order and exited the room. 

“Oh, Will, what have they done to you?” Hannibal whispered to him, tilting his head up to get a better view of his injuries.

Will whimpered, a tear dripping down his cheek.

“…What have…you been doing to yourself?” Hannibal asked, taking his handkerchief and dabbing the blood from his nose.

Will didn’t respond.

“Will, what happened? What did you do?”

_“You…You’re just like the rest of ‘em…”_ Will slurred.

Hannibal froze.

The thought that all the work they’ve done to trust each other was thrown out the door was heartbreaking. Hannibal felt like he was about to cry, but he kept his composure. He knew that there was always a possibility of a patient having some mental health situation along the road, but watching it happen to Will in-particular was devastating- especially when he was part of the problem. All Hannibal could do in that moment was just cradle Will’s head, rubbing soothing circles over his back and comforting him however he could.

“Will, I’m going to get you on the bed. Just take a deep breath. One, two, three-“ Hannibal counted off before lifting Will up from under his arms. Will screamed and writhed as the doctor lifted him up and laid him flat on the bed. Hannibal began unbuttoning Will’s jumpsuit and lowering it down. He slowly lifted up Will’s t-shirt to examine his colorful array of bruises, some old, some new spanning from being bright purple to a light green-ish color.

Will had been self harming for weeks.

It broke Hannibal’s heart to finally know where the bruises came from.

“Oh, Will…” Hannibal spoke to himself, brushing a careful hand over the bruises that spanned his stomach and chest. “Oh, my poor Will…”

Not long after, three nurses arrived with a medical bag and hurried over to Will. Hannibal stood up and immediately went into doctor-mode.

“Broken arm, potential broken nose, bruised ribs, and possibly internal bleeding. We need to get him to the ICU. I want a CT scan, an x-ray and his arm set ASAP,” Hannibal ordered the nurses, who brought back a gurney and rolled it into the room. Hannibal helped the nurses lift Will from the bed to the gurney and Will screamed out in pain at the slightest touch. They strapped him down and rushed him out of the room yet again. Hannibal sighed, running a hand through his hair and he stood alone in the cell, Will’s blood staining his coat and the bottoms of his oxfords.

He felt his eyes begin to water, but he quickly snapped himself out of it. Will needed him in this moment. There was no time for tears.

Hannibal took a deep breath, cleared his head and made his way down the hall back to the ICU.

Once Hannibal reached the room, he looked through the window in the door to find Will sobbing and writhing uncontrollably on the table, trying to fight off the nurses.

“C-154, stay still!”

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Will screamed, teeth bared.

One of the nurses tried to take a pair of scissors and cut open Will’s t-shirt when suddenly, Will turned and sunk his teeth into the wrist of the nurse.

The nurse cried out in pain, blood beginning to seep through his rubber gloves.

Hannibal had never seen Will act this way before and he couldn’t help but wonder if yesterday’s events caused all this.

In a matter of seconds, one of the nurses was retrieving a plastic opaque mask with small holes in the front and strapping it tightly around Will’s head. Will growled and thrashed his head from side to side, trying to jostle it off, but to no avail.

The nurses tried to hold down Will to the best of their ability without worsening his injuries, but Will was making their job a living hell.

“C-154! Be still or we’ll be forced to-“ one nurse called out, but his sentence was finished by the head nurse.

  
“Sedate him.”

“No!” Hannibal barged into the room and ran to Will’s bedside.

“Dr Lecter, please, we are equipped to handle this situation. Please wait outside,” the head nurse spoke calmly as Will continued to struggle violently.

“Please, he listens to me. Let me see him. Wi-C-154!” Hannibal called to Will, catching himself.

Upon hearing Hannibal’s voice, Will turned and his eyes immediately welled up. He tried to cry out to him, but his words were muffled by the mask.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Hannibal coo’d, hurrying to the table and petting Will’s hair to try and calm him down.“Just please be gentle with him!” Hannibal called out to the other nurses. “He’s at high risk!”

“Doctor, he needs to be sedated. He’s hysterical,” the head nurse told Hannibal sternly.

“He just needs a kind voice in the room,” Hannibal answered, turning back to his patient.

“C-154, you need to calm down, please. Take a deep breath with me, okay? Deep breath in,” Hannibal directed.

Will looked up at him with pain in his eyes and slowly, but surely, he took a deep breath which was drawn loudly from the holes in the mask.

“Good, now out…”

Will did as directed.

“Good, again,” Hannibal instructed and Will did as such.

Will was still exhibiting signs of severe stress and the deep breaths only helped a little bit.

“Good, now we just need to-“ Hannibal began as he reached to remove the rest of Will’s shirt, but this immediately sparked another fit of panic and Will began to thrash against Hannibal’s grip.

“C-154! C-154, this is your final warning!” Hannibal called, but Will wasn’t interested in listening.

Hannibal’s heart broke as he turned to the head nurse and held his hand out. The nurse handed him the uncapped needle and with expert technique, Hannibal plunged the needle into Will’s shoulder.

Will screamed from behind the mask and thrashed even more, but it was too late. In seconds, Will began to wind down. His breathing went from tight hyperventilating to a natural, slow rhythm, his eyelids slowly fell and his rigid body began to sink back. He looked up at Hannibal with eyes that read of confusion and betrayal before they rolled back and he was out.

Hannibal let go of Will’s body and lowered it down to the gurney. He was absolutely devastated that he had to be the one to knock him out. It was anything but pleasant for everyone in the room.

Hannibal looked up at the group of nurses, who he found were all staring at him.

“It’s alright, sir,” one of the nurses spoke. “It happens with guys like these…”

Hannibal wanted more than anything to be able to show them who Will was on the inside, a gentle studious man with passions and life goals and a family, but this would break every boundary.

Hannibal only sighed and exited the room, leaving the nurses to their work.

He trudged back to his office and sat himself down in his office chair and thought. Thinking was all he could do. His view of Will was being questioned. Was the man he saw thrashing on the gurney the same person who he’d spend all night talking about modern art with? The transformation was disturbing, but what caused it?

All he could think of was the day before. He knew Will must have been furious about Hannibal refusing to stop the surgery, or at least step down from conducting it himself. Neither party wanted the other to be involved. Will felt let down by him- betrayed even. He was expecting Hannibal to stand up for him in that moment, but that expectation was unrealistic to begin with. Will didn't understand the amount of scrutiny Hannibal was under. After what happened with Will's fall, he was under a microscope with the way he treated him. Will was an incredibly valuable subject and the facility would stop at nothing to keep him, including getting rid of anyone who gets in their way. 

If only he could have told Will beforehand, maybe this situation would have been lighter.

Hannibal knew that Will was under an enormous amount of stress, but apparently hid it very well while in his company. What Hannibal was unaware of was the self harm and perhaps it was the stress of being caught and of being attacked for it that was partially the culprit, but it was hard to say.

Hannibal placed his elbows on the table and ran his hands over his face.

This was not how he planned the day would go.


	20. Chapter 20

Back in Montreal, Abigail and Stephen were working around the clock with the detective on Will’s case. Abigail didn’t have a boatload of evidence, but the team of detectives and officers believed her anyway. The girl would wait by the landline for hours, waiting for any news, any trace of a pathway back to her father. Whenever the phone would ring, Abigail would pick it up before the first ring could finish. Most of the time, it was an officer asking for legal information or something relating to paperwork, yada yada. It was rare that they’d find anything of substance…until one Monday afternoon. The phone rang and Abigail answered it immediately.

“Abigail Graham speaking…” she spoke.

“Abigail, it’s Sara Pierce. Do you have a second to talk?”

Abigail didn’t hesitate for a moment.

“Absolutely. Did you find anything?”

“The bad news is that we can’t manage to track or gather any information with the number your father called you on. It’s possible the phone was destroyed or the number was tampered with- in fact it’s very likely.”

Abigail closed her eyes and sighed in frustration.

“What’s the good news?” she asked.

“The good news is our forensics team headed to where the kidnapping took place. They weren’t able to find the tollbooth you described, however, they were able to gather some DNA at the scene. If you want to head over to the station and do some tests, we can compare the DNA to test if it’s your father’s.”

“Oh..uh, I’m adopted actually…” Abigail confessed.

“…Well, then that makes things a bit more complicated,” the detective spoke.

“-But I can give you the name of our local hospital back home and maybe compare data or something like that. Would that help?” Abigail asked.

“It might, but we would need your written consent.”

“Of course,” Abigail replied instantly. “Did you find anything else?”

“Yes, there were some footprints found and tire tracks that we were able to trace for about a half a mile. We’re working on getting a team of K-9 units out there in the morning, but I cannot confirm or deny anything until we get out to the scene.”

“I understand. Thank you so much,” Abigail replied.

“Take care, Abigail. I’ll discuss new information as soon as it arises,” Sara responded before hanging up the line.   
  


Abigail placed the phone back in the receiver and turned her attention to Stephen, who was standing nervously in the doorway.

“Did they find anything?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. They’re working on it though,” Abigail spoke.

“They’re taking forever! It’s been months for fucks sake!” Stephen groaned.

“Yeah…I mean what other choice do we have than to trust the process I guess…” Abigail sighed.

Stephen hummed to himself, the cogs in his head turning.

“What are you thinking of?” Abigail questioned curiously.

“I’m thinking that this case might need some vigilante justice…” he answered.

Abigail furrowed her brow.

“What are you talking about?”

“Abigail, these cops are moving at a snail’s pace. I would hate to assume the worst and I won’t…but I’m just about done with relying on the police.”

“Wh…What are you gonna do?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t know yet…I’m still thinkin’ about it,” Stephen told her honestly.

“Well, when you finish thinkin’ about it…I’m in as well,” Abigail told him.

Stephen and Abigail stared at each other in that moment knowing that this trip which started out as a fun family vacation was turning into something much, much more.


	21. Chapter 21

Hannibal gazed at the broken man before him through the enormous window-wall that looked into Will’s room.

The man was awake now and tied down to the bed with a cast over his left arm, the mask still strapped to his face with a bandage over his nose, and an IV drip at his bedside. He was calm now, or so it seemed. Hannibal noticed that Will refused to look in the direction of the wall, as if part of him knew that Hannibal would be on the other end.

He was calm, subdued, but still obviously hurt, and Hannibal felt horrible for it. He’d wished he could have gotten there earlier and stopped the guards from pummeling him, or been able to calm his panic down in time, but what was done was done.

Hannibal longed to ease his pain. He would have done anything in that moment to see Will’s smile again.

Then, on cue, an idea popped into his head. He knew of the perfect way to gain back Will’s admiration and trust.

He hurried away down the halls and into his office. Hannibal was able to retrieve Will’s personal file, which included his passport and everything he had with him upon his initial capture.

Hannibal opened up his passport and found Will’s date of birth: October 2nd…That was the day after tomorrow.

Hannibal smiled to himself and made a mental note, putting away the file and writing a new note on his board.

———

Hannibal immediately began planning for Will’s big surprise. He learned where all the security cameras were in the facility and how to avoid them. He doubled checked to make sure he had all his keys and everything he might need in the moment.

The day arrived and Hannibal walked with a skip in his step. He was excited beyond words to show Will his gift to him.

After disabling the security footage, Hannibal sped through the halls and into the main cell block. He brought in one of the wheelchairs from the hallway and buzzed himself into Will’s room.

Will turned to look at him, but scowled and immediately looked away.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal spoke once he closed the door behind him.

Will didn’t reply.

Hannibal’s smile dimmed as he pulled the wheelchair up to his bedside.

“How is your arm?” the doctor asked, reaching over to examine Will’s cast, but Will instantly recoiled.

_“Don’t touch me,”_ he spoke from behind the mask. Luckily, Hannibal could understand him this time.

The doctor drew his hand back.

“I’m…so sorry about yesterday, Will…and the day before. All of that could have been avoided. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you from it.”

Will turned to Hannibal slowly showing that he had tears in his eyes now.

“Why didn’t you call off the surgery? You could have if you wanted to,” Will asked.

“Because if I did, they would have suspected that I’ve grown attached to you and they might remove me from your case,” Hannibal spoke, finally able to explain.

“You treated me just like every other doctor did- like I was a piece of meat. You called me _‘the subject.’_ Do you not understand how that must have felt to me?”

“Of course I did. Nothing that came out of my mouth in that moment was genuine in any way. I needed to prove to everyone around me that I was neutral enough to continue taking on your case. I could have been fired,” Hannibal tried to explain.

“Perfect. God forbid anything happens to your paycheck, right?” Will snarled.

“It has nothing to do with being paid, Will. It’s you!” Hannibal cried.

Will paused.

“It’s you, Will. I can’t lose you,” Hannibal finally confessed.

Will stared up at him with confused eyes, but they soon melted away with understanding.

“What are you saying?” Will asked nervously.

Hannibal sighed and began untying Will’s restraints.

“Wait, what…are you doing?” Will spoke up, knowing full well that he was not allowed to be unrestrained after the act he pulled yesterday.

“We’re going to go on a little walk. Come on, up you go,” Hannibal said, helping Will sit up and setting him down in the wheelchair.

Will also noticed in this moment that Hannibal didn’t strap him to the chair as most nurses would do. This eased his anxiety, but not by much.

Hannibal rolled him down the passageways down to a hallway that Will had never seen before. There weren’t fingerprint keypads on any of the doors and most of the rooms were empty.

Will was thoroughly confused. He had absolutely no clue where Hannibal was taking him and a twinge of nervousness still flowed through him.

They traveled down the halls until they reached a small elevator. Hannibal pushed him in and pressed the top button.

“Where are we going?” Will asked.

Hannibal didn’t reply, but a small smile slowly grew as they ascended higher and higher, up the seemingly endless levels.

A minute passed before they reached the top, the doors opened and Hannibal lead him down a concrete empty corridor that lead straight to a single door. Will could see light coming from the bottom of the door and the closer he got to it, the more his anxiety rose.

Hannibal stepped in front of Will and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” Hannibal asked.

Will looked down at the hand on his shoulder, then back up at Hannibal.

“…Yes,” he replied softly.

Hannibal smiled and slowly pushed open the door.

Will winced at the sudden bright light, but once his eyes adjusted, his heart froze. He gasped, holding a hand over his mouth as he took in the scene in front of him.

What he saw was a gorgeous autumnal forest scenery. Tall, stoic trees with gorgeous orange, red, and yellow leaves stretched above them and went as far as the eye could see. Light broke through the leaves and danced on the grassy flooring. The sounds of rustling trees and birds tweeting gently sang in the background.

Will looked behind him but all he could see was the same door and the stone hallway that lead directly underground. The facility was _literally_ underground and they had reached the top. Will kept looking back at the door, then to the forest in front of him, then do the door again, then back to the forest.

“I’m sure you’re not aware,” Hannibal began, “-but according to your charts, today _is_ your birthday, and I thought that this would be a suitable gift.”

Will said nothing- he was completely speechless. His heart was racing. It felt like he was witnessing a wonderful and forbidden place, like Adam sneaking back into the garden of Eden.

He knew that this might be his only chance at freedom, so he glanced back at Hannibal, who was staring off into the distance with a calm smile.

It was now or never.

“After five months, I’m sure that-“

Suddenly, with more speed and energy that Hannibal had ever seen him have before, Will bounced out of the chair and bolted into the forest.

Hannibal’s smile disappeared and his face went pale.

He stood in shock for several moments, watching Will’s form grow smaller and smaller as he vanished into the distance. He had absolutely no idea what to do in that moment. Should he chase after him, or call the guards or let him go?

The facility was located deep underground in a remote rural area where there wasn’t a town or sign of civilization in miles. With the limited strength Will had, plus being in immediate recovery from surgery, Hannibal knew that he couldn’t get far. Whether Hannibal chased after him or let him go, he knew that either way, he was going to be in an enormous amount of trouble with his superiors.

Hannibal panicked. He needed to get him back, for his own safety.

With a shaky hand, the doctor reached behind him and pulled out the walkie talkie from his back pocket. He brought the device to his mouth, pressed the speaker button and said “This is Dr Lecter. We have a code orange. Exit 19.”

About five minutes later, a van sped up, pulled up beside the door, and screeched to a halt. The door of the van opened and inside were twelve armed guards and two nurses. They ushered for Hannibal to get in, which he did without question.

One of the nurses had a laptop open, and when Hannibal peered over her shoulder, the screen showed a map of the area and a tiny red dot moving across it.

Hannibal didn’t need to ask what the dot represented. He was fully aware that Will was ordered to wear a tracker around his ankle at all times unless the experiment required for it to be removed. Will had had it on for so long that he must have forgot about it.

The drive was silent. None of the guards or nurses asked Hannibal any questions as to how Will was able to get past security or find his way around the facility or reach the top, most secluded level- all while in the presence of his primary doctor. Things looked bad for both of the men- really really bad.

Meanwhile, Will had never felt more alive. He sprinted through the forest, feeling the cool grass against his bare feet and the wind rush through his curls.

He was liberated.

It felt like nature itself was cheering him on as he ran farther away from the facility and closer to freedom. He didn’t look back, he knew that the only thing he needed to do in that moment was focus on creating as much of a distance between him and the door to the facility as he could.

His thoughts were interrupted however by the sound of a car engine behind him.

“Got him,” the driver told the team. Hannibal looked over and saw the image of a man in teal pants, a white t-shirt and a large white cast around his arm racing barefoot through the forest.

Although Hannibal was the one who called for backup, he genuinely wanted Will to escape in that moment. He wanted to cry, scream, anything to tell Will to keep running and don’t look back, but it was no use at this point.

“C-154! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!” the guard in the passenger seat shouted out the window from behind a megaphone.

Will kept running, this time, making sharp turns, darting around the trees trying to steer them off his tracks, but it didn’t help as much as he thought it would.

“C-154, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. GET ON THE GROUND OR WE WILL USE FORCE!”

Will didn’t listen, continuing to run as fast as his shaky legs would let him.

Hannibal tried concealing his panic as best he could, but his hands were trembling, his face was dripping with perspiration and his face was flushed.

“Hand me the gun,” the nurse in the passenger seat told the guard to Hannibal’s left.

As the small black gun was placed in her hand, Hannibal felt sick to this stomach. He was afraid to ask if it was real or if it was a stun gun or a tranquilizer gun, but based on the fact that Will had a bullet wound in his shoulder, he wouldn’t put it past them to use a real gun to subdue him.

The nurse rolled down the window enough for her to lean out and set her aim on Will.

“Administering in 3…2…1,” she sounded off before shooting and hitting Will square in the middle of his back.

Hannibal was relieved to see a pink fluff at the end of the dart, proving that it was indeed a tranquilizer gun and not a real handgun.

Will screamed and stumbled forward when the dart hit him, but he continued on running.

He didn’t slow down until about two or three minutes later. They witnessed him stumbling more, tripping over his feet and almost falling on several instances. Finally, Will’s energy had run on empty and his running slowed.

Quickly the van stopped and unloaded, the guards and nurses circling him immediately holding their weapons out in front of them.

“C-154, we have you surrounded. Put your hands behind your back!” one of the officers cried out to him.

Will completely ignored them, even trying to push past them, but they had formed a tight wall around him.

“Where’s Lecter…” Will slurred, looking around for him. “Wher’z he?!”

“C-154, we won’t ask you again. Get on the ground _now_!”

_“Bite me,”_ Will snarled.

Immediately five guards descended on Will, wrestling him to the ground and flipping him on his stomach. Will screamed and hissed, trying with all his might to throw them off, but the tranquilizer had already seeped into his system.

Hannibal watched in the background. The guilt he felt was insurmountable and he figured that he’d done enough damage as it is. This was completely his fault and no one else’s. He hung his head and sat alone in the van, wallowing in shame and listening to Will’s cries.

The guards locked a pair of cuffs around his ankles and cuffed his wrists behind his back and removed the tranquilizer dart from between his shoulder blades. They rolled him on his side and a nurse checked his pupillary response to see how strong the effects of the drug were.

“Vitals are looking alright,” the nurse spoke to the group.

Will’s breathing began to slow and his eyes grew unfocused. He had lost the energy to struggle at this point, so all he could do was allow them do whatever they had planned to do to him.

_“Ugh…”_ he groaned as he felt the pull of the sedatives.

“1…2…3,” the guards counted before they lifted him by his legs and under his arms and began carrying him into the van.

Hannibal stared as they laid the half-conscious man on the floor of the van at Hannibal’s feet. Will whimpered in discomfort as they team arranged him in the middle of them and the rest of the team flooded in the van. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and comfort him. He wanted to pet his hair, hold him close and say how sorry he was that this had to happen.

He also thought about how Will had completely betrayed his trust.

The drive back was silent and extremely awkward. Will was completely out, breathing normally and blissfully unaware. None of the guards or nurses spoke a word to Hannibal. It wasn’t their job to pry into what happened- it was only their job to fix it. By the time they reached the door back to the facility, a team was waiting with a stretcher. They parked the van and the nurses hauled Will out and transferred Will onto the table, strapping him in and carrying him away.

Hannibal was the last to exit the van. He hopped out, hanging his head, his hair disheveled and sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked up to see no other than Dr Du Maurier standing in the doorway and glaring at him with her arms crossed.

Hannibal looked up at her and hung his head in shame.

“Dr Lecter,” she began. “My office. Now.”

“…Yes, of course,” he replied quietly as he followed her through the door, double bolting it behind them.


	22. Chapter 22

Hannibal and Dr Du Maurier sat in silence in her office, Du Maurier looking down at her laptop, typing methodically while Hannibal sat in front of her desk, waiting for the worst.

After about a minute of dead silence, Dr Du Maurier looked up and crossed her hands on her desk.

  
“Here we are again, Dr Lecter,” she said calmly.

Dr Lecter breathed out a shaky sigh. He had no idea what to say.

“There is no excuse for what I’ve done. I understand now how grave of a mistake that was,” he finally said.

  
  
“Yes, yes it was,” she replied plainly.

“I put the experiment in jeopardy and-“

“You put the _entire facility_ in jeopardy, Dr Lecter. Everyone was affected by what took place today- _everyone_ ,” Dr Du Maurier corrected.

“…I understand.”

“Do you understand what could have happened if C-154 escaped? - If he didn’t have a tracker installed?”

Hannibal stayed silent.

  
“We would have to go into lockdown. Our entire operation, every single soul who works here- There is a reason why the government marks us as a classified facility or why we’re built underground. Everything beneficial we’ve curated in the decades we’ve been in operation would have gone out the window. We all would have been ruined…and why?” she elaborated.

“…I felt sorry for him. He told me he wanted to feel sunlight again…and I humored him,”

“…Do you and C-154 _often_ have these intimate conversations?” Du Maurier questioned.

“We would talk often, yes. I figured that it might be beneficial for his mental health to vent to someone he trusted.”

“And how did he come to trust you, Dr Lecter?” she asked.

  
“…I understand I stepped out of line. Again, there is no excuse,” was all Hannibal could say.

Dr Du Maurier paused and stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She paced around her desk and walked directly in front to sit on the edge of it and cross her arms, staring Hannibal down in a way he knew he deserved.

“If I recall correctly, I told you on your first day here that if he tried to sway you or manipulate you in any way in order to form a bond, that you would report to me. Was I not clear?” she asked.

“Y…Yes, ma’am.”

“-And was there a reason why you didn’t report back when C-154 manipulated you into forming a bond?”

“Forgive me, ma’am, but C-154 never manipulated me,” Hannibal corrected bluntly.

“No? What would you call yesterday?” she finally spoke.

Hannibal furrowed his brow.

“C-154 has a particularly negative reputation at the facility. He has had several escape attempts, has assaulted our staff on several occasions and is known to be extremely disobedient and at some times volatile. Most patients exhibit some type of resistance in the beginning of treatment, but they eventually break. C-154 was almost going to be one of those patients. We were under the impression that we’d broke him. He was complicit for several weeks after some firm negotiation, that is until you showed up,” Dr Du Maurier explained.

  
  
Hannibal frowned and looked down at the ground in thought.

“Ever since I placed you in charge of him, everything seemed to complicate itself. His emotions have been unpredictable to the point where we’ve considered putting him on mood stabilizers. He’s gone from obedient to a rabid animal in days and it’s been rather exhausting for the rest of us. Now what I want to know is what type of affect you’re having on him, _doctor.”_

Hannibal paused, continuing his silence.

“It seems you have a mixed effect on C-154, and I question how much of it is healthy for him.”

Hannibal wanted to speak up and object to her use of the word “healthy,” when the other doctors and nurses at the facility hadn’t shown any concern for Will’s health and only focused on getting the results they needed.

“I hope you won’t mind if I ask you a fairly direct question, Dr Lecter,” Dr Du Maurier began.

“Of course,” Hannibal replied softly, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

“What kind of a man do you think C-154 is?”

Hannibal froze, his mind stopping at a blank. There definitely was an honest answer to the question, but Hannibal hesitated in telling her. He didn’t want to give her any more bait than he already had.

“From a professional standpoint, I…I think C-154 is…an individual who has been through a significant amount of trauma. I think he is a man who has wants and emotions just like anyone else. He feels very deeply. He has a sense of humor. He’s a father…a teacher…a human being. He has hopes for a future, but he’s lost a lot of his faith over the past few months. He’s-“ Hannibal began, but he was instantly cut off by Du Maurier raising a hand, signaling him that she’d heard enough.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Dr Du Maurier began. “I want to show you something.”

She slowly walked back behind her desk, took a seat and began pulling up a file on her laptop. She flipped the screen to face Hannibal and pressed a button to pull up a security footage video from months back during Will’s first escape attempt.

Hannibal watched as the footage showed Will grab a knife off the table and swing it around at the nurses violently. The audio was cut from the clip, but Hannibal definitely felt the stress in the room as the nurses dodged Will’s swings. The next clip Du Maurier showed was of a separate occasion when Will had punched one of the guards so hard that he chipped a tooth- then on another occasion where a nurse tried to take a blood sample from him while he slept and Will pounced on her and had to be pried off by three other guards.

One by one, she showed him clip after clip of Will’s most violent, out-of-control moments and each one only made Hannibal feel more sick. Anyone watching them could see that Will was incredibly disturbed and it was slowly being proved to Hannibal. The look on Will’s face, his balled fists, his bared teeth, his fury, all of it shook Hannibal to his core.

“Do these look like the actions of a kind, gentle, misunderstood man?” Du Maurier asked him.

Hannibal felt his heart sink.

“No, they do not,” he answered.

“Oh, I’m not so sure you believe that Doctor…” Du Maurier commented. “Let’s take a look at another clip, shall we?”

The next thing Hannibal knew, he was watching the footage of himself questioning Will on one of his first days. He listened to the audio, which began as a normal session- asking Will how his head was or if he was experiencing any dizziness of nausea. Then the footage picked up on him asking Will less-than-professional questions such as if he had kids or a wife.

Hannibal winced at his own words. There was nothing more embarrassing than having to hear him ask Will the questions he was specifically ordered not to ask- and directly in front of the person who ordered him not to ask them. He ran his hands over his face in shame and sighed.

Dr Du Maurier stopped the tape and turned back to Hannibal again with a strict, yet disappointed look in her eye.

Dr Lecter looked back up at her with shame in his eyes.

“…”

“…”

The two sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak.

“What more is there to say?” Hannibal finally spoke.

Dr Du Maurier blinked, closing her laptop and facing him.

“Dr Lecter, I understand that C-154 might have seemed like a friend at one point. He’s educated, he knows how to influence others, and he is considered an incredibly valuable subject and this gives him a level of status. This _charm_ , for lack of a better word, can be difficult to distinguish from an actual allure. Do you understand?”

Hannibal didn’t respond, insinuating that he didn’t.

“C-154 took your trust that you had bestowed on him, and broke it. I understand that you were trying to win back his trust for whatever reason, but this experience today was a perfect example of why subjects are never to be trusted with such freedom,” she further explained.

“You mean nothing to him. You’re no more than a cog in the machine he sees as a prison. If he cared at all about you or respected your position, he wouldn’t have ran. He would have sat nice and pretty and let you give him that moment of fresh air, then followed you back to his cell to spare you from any trouble. He knew what it would mean for you if he escaped under his watch and yet he did it anyway. He doesn’t care about you, Hannibal,” she continued, emphasizing the use of his first name.

Hannibal’s heart seemed to crack upon hearing those words. He didn’t want to believe them, but he knew there must be some truth in them.

It was extremely selfish of him to try to escape, but Hannibal also considered that Will’s thoughts were extremely clouded. He was kept prisoner for five months and was given a cocktail of mind-numbing drugs that most people can’t pronounce the names of.

This component only caused Hannibal to grow more sympathy towards Will. Will behaved like a caged, abused, animal because he was one. Hannibal probably would have done the same thing if he was in Will’s shoes. It was an incredibly stupid idea on his part- he should have at least restrained him to the chair or ran after him before calling the rest of the team.

Hannibal sighed again, then looked back up at her.

“So what happens now?” he asked.

Dr Du Maurier twiddled her thumbs for a moment before turning back to him, as if she had just made a final decision on the matter.

“I’m afraid I must ask for your resignation,” she stated plainly.

Hannibal’s eyes widened.

“…Excuse me?”

“Your relationship to C-154 has grown too personal. We cannot risk another instance like this happening. The best I can do for you is transfer you to another facility, but I cannot with a sound mind allow you to continue working with C-154’s case,” Dr Du Maurier explained.

Hannibal was devastated beyond words. Embarrassment and shame overwhelmed him, but the thought that he might never speak to Will again was downright heartbreaking.

He held back his tears and nodded.

“I completely understand.”

“Good. I will give you a week. That should be more than enough time to collect yourself,” Dr Du Maurier told him. “You are dismissed.”

Hannibal nodded and stood up, heading for the door.

“Oh, Dr Du Maurier-“ he began, looking back at her.

She looked up from her computer.

“...Would it be possible that before I leave, that I visit C-154 one more time to inform him of my resignation from his case? I’m sure he will ask about me and it would bring us both great solace to say goodbye,” he asked.

Du Maurier thought for a moment. She knew that the professional side of her should say _‘absolutely not,’_ but she understood the uniqueness of the situation, and she felt a tug on her heartstrings.

“This Tuesday. 3:45pm. I will give you five minutes,” she answered, looking back down at her laptop.

Hannibal smiled warmly.

“Thank you,” he said before exiting the office, gently closing the door behind him.

His smile immediately left the second he stepped out.

His world felt like it was thrown upside down in the span of an hour. He felt a thousand emotions at once: regret, sadness, fear, anger, grief. He trudged back to his office, avoiding eye contact with the nurses that passed him in the hallway.

All he could think about was Tuesday and what his final words to Will would be.


	23. Chapter 23

When Will came to, all he saw was darkness. Will was still under the influence of the drugs, but with every minute that passed, he was more and more aware of his surroundings. He slowly opened his eyes and groaned softly, trying to sit up, but found straps over his chest, waist and knees tying him to the bed. He also noticed that there was another link around his other ankle, which was attached to a chain that linked around the footboard of the bed.

He barely remembered the day before, only faint images of hallways, trees, and the feeling of grass against his bare feet.

He looked around and found himself back in his cell, only there were more monitors in the room and a guard present, sitting in a plastic chair against the wall and looking down at his phone.

The guard heard the sudden fast beeping of the heart monitor and looked up to find Will awake.

“Hey, buddy. Welcome back,” he spoke, stuffing his phone into his pocket and crossing his legs.

Will groaned softly and squinted against the pale ceiling lights.

“What h’ppened…” he groaned.

“You had a field trip- that’s what,” the guard answered with a scoff.

Will frowned, trying to surface the memories.

“…Where’s Dr Lecter?” Will slurred.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” the guard shot back.

Will didn’t know how to respond to that.

The guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie and held it up to his lips.

“Doctor? He’s awake and responsive,” the guard spoke.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there,” a female voice replied back.

Will’s heart sunk. That was not the doctor he was expecting.

The guard hung up the call and about a minute passed before the door to the cell open and Dr Du Maurier entered the room.

She had her usual clipboard and pen in hand. Her hair had gotten longer since the last time Will saw her. She seemed calm and contained, as if she’d always known that it all would come to this. 

She smiled and pulled up a chair by Will and crossed her legs.

“Hello C-154,” she said in her usual smooth, sultry voice. “How are you feeling today?”

Will didn’t reply.

She cocked her head a bit, waiting for Will’s response.

“I said, ‘How are you feeling to-“

“Fine…” Will interrupted.

Dr Du Maurier smirked, scribbling down a note on her pad.

“I do not blame you, C-154, for what took place yesterday,” she began.

Will was confused.

“I understand that psychologically, you are in a fragile position. You have proven to be dangerous and erratic. I have given you more than enough time to learn the error of your ways. I even thought we had a breakthrough at one point in your treatment. Remember that?”

“I didn’t have a breakthrough…I gave up,” Will corrected. 

“You were proving me wrong about your violent nature. I had so much hope for you. I even considered sending you to a lower security facility where you’d be more comfortable. You were a model subject,” the doctor began. “-And then…everything began to unravel again, didn’t it?”

Will looked away, breaking eye contact.

“Something snapped in you. You became unpredictable, compliant one day and violent the next. You began self harming and exhibiting suicidal and behavior that we couldn’t ignore anymore. I thought you had learned from attempts in the past that escape was an impossible goal. I thought you’d learn something, grown smarter, but I was proved wrong yet again. You learned nothing, and when given the opportunity, you ran,” she continued.

Will’s anxiety began to grow, his heart rate picking up just a tad. The doctor noticed this silently, then continued.

“We are an organization that has run successfully for decades. We know the difference between a patient who will help our cause, and a patient who is a danger to it. You lost your last opportunity to be the first, C-154. I have no other choice than to enact on you _‘X-status.”_

The officer seated behind her grimaced.

“What..does that mean?” Will asked nervously.

“It means that we need you at your upmost physical health for the next several days,” she replied, standing up and approaching the door. “Please rest. You’ll need your strength.”

For the first time, Will didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to rest. All he’d done was rest. He had so many questions that he needed answered.

As she stood in the doorway, Du Maurier turned back towards Will.

“I had so much faith in you, C-154. If we don’t see each other again, I’d like to thank you for all you have contributed to the cause. The results of your testing have saved thousands of future lives and for that, we are eternally grateful.”

Will stared at her in absolute horror. What did X-status mean? Where was Dr Lecter? What did she mean by ‘if she ever say him again?’ What were they going to do to him?

“Wait, please!” Will called, but she had already turned on her heal to exit.

“Good bye, C-154,” she spoke before the door closed on her and Will was left alone with the on-duty guard in silence to cultivate his thoughts.

Will’s heart raced, his breathing quickened and his anxiety rushed through him like never before. He had absolutely no idea what would happen to him but he knew it couldn’t be good. He sank back into the bed, staring at the ceiling, pondering the doctor’s words and wondering if Hannibal was in just as much trouble as he was.

——

Meanwhile, Hannibal had begun to pack his belongings from his office. He was thankful that he wasn’t completely out of a job, but at the end of the day, he understood the danger of what his actions that day could have done.

All he could think about was Will and what this meant for him.

Hannibal quickly turned and opened his work laptop. He clicked on the “C-154” file on his desktop and checked to see if Will’s information was still updated and available. Thankfully, Dr Du Maurier hadn’t removed it from his database yet. Hannibal internally sighed with relief and began examining the documents.

Inside was all the results from Will’s tests, the transcriptions from all his interviews, and everything they’d collected on him over the past five months. Hannibal refreshed the screen and went to the top of the pile to see his most recent information.

**“ESCAPE ATTEMPT (3) STATUS: RECOVERED, UNHARMED”**

Hannibal peered down, painfully reading over the events of the day as they were being updated.

He drew his attention to the bottom of the screen, which showed all of Will’s planned procedures. He’d noticed that the long list that was usually there was now shortened to one final procedure labeled:

**“SURGICAL PROCEDURE #6: Status: Active”**

Hannibal furrowed his brow and clicked on the file. He read through it and with each word, he felt himself growing more and more terrified.

**“Procedures: Organ procurement of liver, right lung, pancreas, left and right kidney, and heart. Procedure will be conducted by Dr. Carol Patrickson on October 10th.”**

Hannibal felt sick as he read through the details of the procedure, who would be conducting it and how long it would take. Every detail, every name, every latin word for body part, every bit of the document chilled Hannibal’s soul to the bone, but nothing struck him more than the final words:

**“The subject will not survive the procedure.”**

Hannibal’s mind went into panic mode. They were going to kill him and it was Hannibal’s fault. This man’s entire life would end on an operating table surrounded by his captors, and it was all because of Hannibal’s dumb decisions.

He knew he couldn’t just walk away while the man he’d grown so fond of is murdered in the name of “science.” He had do something- anything.

He hurried over to the file cabinet on his right and saw that Will’s file hadn’t been removed yet. He reached inside and laid out the contents over his desk.

There, he found Will’s passport, wallet and ID. Hannibal thumbed through his wallet, looking through his credit cards until coming across a small photograph of a young woman with straight black hair, pale freckled skin, and round blue eyes. She was smiling and holding a small jack Russel terrier with a name tag that read “Buster.”

Hannibal’s heart broke. This had to be Will’s daughter that he’d talked so frequently about.

Suddenly, an idea sparked.

Hannibal dug deeper into the file to find the transcript of Will’s call with Abigail, and miraculously labeled at the top of the paper in small black letters was the number Will called.

Hannibal’s heart sprung to life. He knew what he had to do.

He quickly took a piece of paper and copied the number, and began writing several more notes- how much time he had until the surgery date, when he was allowed to meet Will on Tuesday, and everything that came into preparation of what he was about to do.

This was going to get messy. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Sad chapter ahead~

For Hannibal, the next few days would be packed back-to-back with arranging, writing emails and planning for the big day. Over the course of the week, he had spent almost four thousands dollars bribing guards and security officers. Luckily he came from a background of money so four thousand was easily worth it for him. Hannibal’s plan was almost in effect and he was becoming more and more confident in it as the days went by.

Before he knew it, Tuesday had come along. Hannibal watched the clock in his office methodically, watching the little hand creep past 3:15, then 3:30, then 3:40, when a guard knocked on his door.

“Come in,” Hannibal called.

The guard opened the door and peeked his head in. He was tall and burly with dark skin, a buzzcut and kind eyes. Hannibal had seen him around the facility a few times over the past few weeks, but never got the chance to introduce himself to him.

“Dr Lecter, it’s time,” he said, gesturing to Hannibal that it was time to say his good-byes to Will. Hannibal nodded and followed him out of the office and down the halls to Will’s cell.

As they walked, Hannibal awkwardly turned to the guard.

“How is he?” Hannibal asked quietly.

“Alright as far as I’ve heard. They’re doing non-stop testing as this point so I can imagine he’s low energy. Be prepared for that,” the guard answered honestly.

“I will, thank you…” Hannibal replied.

  
Once they arrived at Will’s door, Hannibal smoothed out his clothes and checked his reflection in the door window.

Hannibal sighed, knowing that this would possibly be the last time he saw Will. He had practiced his words and over again in his head and after a deep sigh, he was finally buzzed in and he was able to take in this unfortunate sight in front of him.

Will was shirtless and sitting on the edge of the bed connected to more machines and tubes than Hannibal had ever seen him in. He had a feeding tube in his nose, two different IVs in his un-casted arm and several heart monitor leads stuck about his torso. He had an oximeter on his finger, and Hannibal could see the tube of a catheter peaking out from one of his pant legs. Both legs had two different cuffs that were chained to the post of the bed as well as his uninjured arm.

The man looked absolutely exhausted. Hannibal had never seen someone so devoid of hope. His head hung as he stared at the floor. Will had come to the conclusion that he was either going to be turned into a vegetable or put down like a sick dog- either way felt like a death, and he had come to slowly accept it overtime.

Hannibal held in his tears and put his hands in his pockets as he approached Will- feeling the officer’s eyes on him as he crossed the room.

  
He kneeled down on front of Will and placed a gentle hand on his knee.

Will was startled by the touch and jumped, looking up at him. Immediately, Will’s eyes began to water.

“…Dr Lecter?” Will peeped.

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal spoke to him just above a whisper.

Will’s normal guard gave Hannibal a stink eye when he heard Hannibal use his real name, but Hannibal ignored it.

“What…are you doing here?” Will asked.

Hannibal knew that with a guard in the room and Du Maurier listening over the microphone in the security camera, he had to be extremely careful with his words as not to give up his plan.

“I’m being transferred to another facility out of state. I wanted to say my good-byes,” Hannibal confessed.

Will looked up at him in heartbroken confusion.

“You’re leaving?”

“It was not my decision,” Hannibal tried to explain.

“…I’m so sorry…” Will replied softly.

“Please don’t be. This is…a new chapter for both of us,” Hannibal tried to explain, but Will cut him off immediately.

“No, I mean I’m so…so sorry. All of this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Hannibal argued.

“Yes, it is. You lost your job here because of me. You trusted me…and I stabbed you in the back…and now we’re both here,” Will spoke. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Hannibal rubbed his knee affectionately and looked up at him, admiring his deep green eyes.

“I know you are.”

“I’m sorry I ran. I wasn’t thinking straight and the drugs-“

“You don’t have to justify it to me. I understand. I would have done the same if I was in your shoes,”

“I know, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry for that.”

“I am too. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you from this.”

Will’s eyes traveled back up to meet Hannibal’s as he asked the one question Hannibal didn’t want to answer.

“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” Will asked.

Hannibal winced at those words.

He turned to the guard with a look that silently asked permission to touch Will. The guard hesitated, then glanced at the guard outside the hall who was watching the scene as well. Both guards nodded to each other, then gave Hannibal a gentle ‘ok’ signal.

Hannibal turned his attention back to Will and reached out a hand to caress the side of his face.

“Oh, my sweet Will,” he mumbled, smoothing Will’s hair out of his face and wiping away a tear. “This is only the beginning for you.”

Will tried to reach up to hold his hand over Hannibal’s, but the restraints only let him lift his arm a few inches.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Hannibal coo’d, laying a hand over Will’s gently.

“You were the only kind voice I had. I’d like to thank you for that,” Will began.

“You’re welcome,” Hannibal patted his hand softly and nodded to himself.

“This is the last time I’ll ever seen you…and I don’t even know what to say,” Will said.

“You don’t have to say anything. We can just sit here for as long as you need me.”

“Time’s up, Dr Lecter,” Will’s regular guard spoke.

Those five minutes went by incredibly fast. Hannibal didn’t doubt that Will’s guard might have cut a few minutes off the session for his own comfort.

“Please, just give me a few more minutes with him- I beg of you,” Hannibal plead.

“Dr Du Maurier’s orders,” Will’s guard affirmed and Hannibal growled in frustration.

He patted Will’s face and dug his opposite hand-the hand farthest away from the guard-into his pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper. He quickly held Will’s hand and slipped the paper into his grasp.

As Hannibal stood, he leaned forward stealthily and leaned slightly in Will’s ear.

_“Open this when it's safe to,”_ Hannibal whispered.

Will’s eyes bulged and he gripped the paper in his hand as if his life depended on it. 

Will quickly slipped the paper under him, quick enough for the guards not to notice.

Hannibal made firm eye contact with him as he stood, smoothing out his blazer.

“So I guess…this is the end for now,” Hannibal said.

“You're Eastern European, right?” Will inquired.

"...Yes, Lithuanian," Hannibal answered, not knowing where his question was going, but allowing it anyway. 

“How do you say ‘good-bye’ in Lithuanian?”

“Viso gero,” Hannibal answered.

“…Viso gero, Dr Lecter,” Will whispered with a faint smile.

“Viso gero, Will,” Hannibal replied, taking in the image of him one more time before reluctantly turning around and exiting the room.

As the door closed, Hannibal and the hallway guard followed closely down to Hannibal’s office.

_“Hey,”_ the guard whispered to Hannibal, keeping his gaze ahead.

Hannibal glanced at him, but the guard quickly shot back, _“Keep your eyes ahead. Act casual.”_

Hannibal quickly did as instructed.

_“I want to help you,”_ the guard added. _“Do you have cameras or microphones in your office?”_

_“No,”_ Hannibal whispered back as they proceeded down the hall.

_“Are you 100% positive?”_

_“Yes, I’m positive,”_ Hannibal replied quietly.

Finally, they entered Hannibal’s office and the guard closed the door behind them.

“My name is Agent Eric Hudson. I was hired by the FBI to investigate malpractice in a series of underground research facilities. I’ve been working as a guard here for several months and I know about everything between you and C-154,” Eric Hudson explained.

“…Wow,” Hannibal muttered.

“I assume from the imprint of the writing on your notepad that you left on your desk yesterday that you’re planning on sneaking him out. I can help you, but it needs to be tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?” Hannibal asked.

“Tomorrow is my shift to monitor the security cameras. I can hack them and put them on a loop long enough for you to collect him,” Eric answered.

“That’s…perfect actually,” Hannibal responded. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’ve been training for moments like these for decades, but being the first agent to expose the wrongdoings an underground government facility would look might fine on my record,” Eric responded with honesty.

“I’ve also seen the way you look at him…You truly care for the man. He doesn’t deserve to die for this,” Eric added.

Hannibal smiled and pursed his lips.

“So now what do we do?” Hannibal pondered.

“Why don’t you tell me your plan and we’ll start from there…” Eric began and immediately the two men began to converge their ideas into one cohesive and understandable plan.

——

That night, Will lay awake in bed, listening to the whir of the machines behind him. He still held the note Hannibal had written for him in his hand, which was growing damp with sweat.

Will looked over at the guard in the room with him, who was seated opposite him and fading, his eyes fluttering.

Will figured he was distracted enough and began to unravel the note. He looked down and tried to read the contents.

The note read:

**“I’M GETTING YOU OUT OF HERE. PREPARE YOURSELF.”**


	25. Chapter 25

Abigail and Steven had lost so much sleep in the last few days of trying to find any evidence or lead on Will. They had gone out everyday to every town near the Eastern American-Canadian boarder and passed out posters, begging anyone for any information they might have and bought a landline for the number to call.

Everyday, she sat in the dining room with the landline in the middle of the table waiting for a call that might lead to any progress. At around 10:30pm, Stephen offered her some coffee and sat down beside her at the table.

“Nothing?” he asked, taking a sip of his espresso.

“Nothing,” she replied back, taking a swig of her drink herself. “I’m afraid to leave this room. I’m afraid I’ll miss the most important call I’ve ever received.”

Stephen simply nodded and patted her on the back.

“We’ll find him. I know it,” she reassured her.

“It’s been five months. Police haven’t found anything, detectives haven’t found anything, and no one seems to have seen him or the white van I described. It feels like the universe is working against me,” Abigail explained.

“It does feel like it, doesn’t it?” Stephen acknowledged. “-But this is the worst time to lose hope, Abigail.”

Abigail looked up at him and exhaled crossed her arms on the table.

“…What if he’s dead?” Abigail spoke, her voice breaking.

“Abgail-“

“I read that the first 72 hours are the most vital…We waited too long to call the police. We waited weeks. _I_ waited weeks. I was a coward- I thought they’d come and find me or-“

“Abigail, stop. You don’t need to explain your reasoning to me,” Stephen halted. “You had just gone through a trauma. You needed space and time. I will always understand.”

Abigail hid her head in her arms and sighed.

“Why don’t you get some sleep. We can check the voicemails in the morning,” Stephen offered.

Abigail felt a duty to stay at the table for a few more hours, but seeing that no one had called the number in weeks, she didn’t truly expect there to be a call that night.

“Yeah, ok…” She agreed, standing up, taking her coffee with her and heading towards the stairs.

Just as Stephen was about to follow her up, a sudden, miraculous ring was heard from the device on the table.

Stephen and Abigail’s heads seemed to turn 350 degrees at the sound of the phone and both of them seemed to be in such a state of shock that they just stood frozen in the doorway. Abigail quickly snapped herself out of it and sprang to the phone, pulling out her tape recorder and setting it beside the receiver and pressing the “answer,” then “speaker” button.

“…Hello?” Abigail spoke quietly.

_“Am I speaking to Abigail Graham?”_

Abigail turned and shared brief eye contact with Stephen, who quickly sat down beside her at the table.

“Uh…yeah. Who is this?”

_“My name is Dr Hannibal Lecter. I know where your father is.”_

A rush of adrenaline hit Abigail like a boat as she heard the words she’d been waiting for for 5 months.

“Is he okay?!” she called out.

_“He’s alive, yes, but he’s in danger as we speak…”_ Hannibal replied honestly.

“What are you doing to him?! Do you want money?! I don’t have any money!” Stephen suddenly yelled, his emotions getting the best of him.

“Stephen, stop,” Abigail shushed.

_“…With who am I speaking to now?”_ Hannibal’s voice asked.

“If you intend to blackmail us or bribe us, it’s not going to work! We’re talking about the kid’s father here for fuck’s sake- Have some goddamn humanity!” Stephen continued.

_"Stephen!"_ Abigail tried to hush, but he had already started. 

"Do you know what these months have been for us?! It has been hell! We can't sleep, can't eat, we're fucking exhausted! The police aren't doing shit, the detectives aren't doing shit- We're losing our minds because of you people!- And I can't even imagine what you're doing to Will!" Stephen ranted. 

“What do you want? We’ll give you anything for him,” Abigail added, trying to mask Stephen’s rage with a calm, collected voice.

_“I want nothing from you! Don’t you understand?! I’m going to help bring him to you, but you need to listen to me and follow every instruction to the point or else you’ll lose him forever. Do you understand?”_ Hannibal shouted.

Abigail and Stephen shared a concerned look between themselves before turning back to the phone.

“…We’re listening,” Abigail spoke.

_“Good. I want you to meet at these exact coordinates tomorrow morning at exactly 3:55am,”_ Hannibal directed before listing the coordinates of the meeting place. Abigail quickly wrote them down on a notepad and began plugging them into her cellphone to bring up the location.

_“Get a van with a quiet engine, and install a fake license plate. Bring medical supplies, towels, and a gun if necessary. Do not bring the authorities with you as more than one van will draw too much attention. We need to cross over the border before calling any law enforcement,”_ Hannibal explained.

Abigail wanted to speak up and ask the man on the phone how he had all this information and why he was in the position he was in, but she held her tongue. She had no idea if the man on the phone was one a friend or foe- or even worse: if they were one of the kidnappers trying to set her up. However, this was the closest she’d ever been to finding her father, and at this point, she was ready to take the risk.

After Hannibal had given the correct information and instructions for the next morning, Abigail turned to Stephen, who was in complete shock and was pretty well convinced of Hannibal’s genuineness.

“Can I ask you something, Doctor?” Abigail peeped.

_“Yes, but quickly.”_

  
  
“Why are you helping us?”

There was a pause on the other line. Stephen and Abigail waited in suspense for his answer.

  
  
_“Your father is a remarkable man, Abigail.”_

“…Yes, yes he is,” Abigail replied. “Thank you.”

_“Remember…3:55am.”_

“3:55am.”

_“Good. I will see you then,”_ Hannibal’s voice spoke before cutting the line.

Abigail and Stephen sat motionless in front of the landline for several minutes before Abigail finally spoke.

“Now where the hell are we going to get a van at this hour?!” Abigail cried. 

"I...think I know a guy."


	26. Chapter 26

Over the past Hannibal and Eric were working around the clock to prepare the break-out. They had planned every act to every minute they had until finally, it was time. Once Hannibal was clocked out from his shift and was in the privacy of his own home, he made the call to Abigail.

Several hours later, 3:30am, Hannibal and Eric decided to finally put their plan to action.

Eric checked the staff list and made sure that everyone on it was thoroughly bribed in order for this plan to go perfectly. Eric shut off the cameras in Will’s room and the hallway outside the cellblock and put them on a loop in case anyone else tried to check. Hannibal brought a duffle bag with him and dressed in his Sunday best under his coat. If today went as planned, it would be a day to be celebrated.

After Eric had given the signal to Hannibal that the cameras were prepped, Hannibal grabbed his bag and hurried down the hallways, Eric following him close behind. He nodded to the officer guarding the main cell block and he was quickly ushered in. Hannibal took a deep breath and slapped on a pair of blue gloves before removing a gun from his pocket and opening the door to Will’s room.

Will was fast asleep in bed, left in almost the exact state that Hannibal had found him in several days before. He laid on his back, his head tilted to the side gently and the heart monitor next to him beeping slowly, showing that he was in REM sleep. 

Hannibal noted on how peaceful he looked for someone who had been confronted with his own mortality.

Hannibal nodded to Eric, who nodded back and headed out the door to keep watch while Hannibal collected Will. 

The night guard that was seated in the plastic chair at the foot of Will’s bed looked up and immediately found himself at the end of a gun.

“Don’t scream. Take off your uniform, your radio and your weapon. Put them on the bed and then get down on the ground with your hands behind your head. If you move or say a word, I’ll shoot you between your eyes,” Hannibal directed. 

The guard was dumbfounded. He slowly obeyed, removing his shirt, coat, hat and pants and placed them on the ground. Meanwhile, Hannibal had shifted over to Will and began turning off the machines and monitors, one by one.

“Will…Will, get up. We’re leaving,”

“Hmmm…whu-“ Will groaned, half asleep.

“Will, I need you to wake up- now,” Hannibal called to him sternly, not taking his eyes or his aim off the man on the ground. “Eric? Eric, I need you.”

Quickly Eric looked up and down the halls before running into Will’s room and quickly picking off the leads and removing the tubes and restraints.

Will woke with a start once he felt the IV being pulled and the sight of Hannibal pointing a gun at the guard on the ground was enough to startle him wide awake.

“Hanni-“ Will began, but Hannibal hushed him and pointed to the duffle bag.

“Will, get up and put this on. It’s time to go,” Eric directed.

“No,” Will suddenly said.

Hannibal and Eric paused for a moment.

“What do you mean, _no?!”_ Hannibal squawked.

“I…I can’t do it, Hannibal,” Will confessed. “I don’t have it in me.”

“Will, what are you talking about?! Put on the uniform now!” Hannibal shouted as quietly as possible, still holding his aim at the guard on the ground while glancing at the glass wall and hoping that no one would pass by.

“I’m weak and too slow. I can’t make it. I can’t risk being caught again. I only have a few days left to live and if I try escaping again and get caught, they might just shoot me on site for all they care. I need this time, please.”

Hannibal was dumbfounded.

Will’s confidence had clearly plummeted in these past few days. Just last week, Will was someone who would sprint out the exit in a blink of an eye and now he was ready to give up-even when someone opened the door for him.

“We’re leaving now and we’re not leaving without you. I’ll carry you myself if needs be.”

Will was still hesitant, but allowed Eric to turn off the machines behind him as to not set off an alarm.

The guard on the floor glanced up nervously towards Hannibal, then to the security camera, hoping that someone was watching on the other side. Thankfully, there wasn’t. The feed showed Will sleeping in bed with the guard watching attentively.

Will seemed reluctant as Eric quickly began helping him dress into the nurse’s uniform he had packed. The clothes were baggy, but the uniform included a face mask and a surgeons cap, which would do a marvelous job at hiding Will’s identity for the meantime.

Suddenly, Eric pulled out a small device from his pocket and kneeled down next to Will’s foot. He inserted the device into a small gear on Will’s ankle brace and twisted it. Instantly, it snapped off.

Will breathed an immediate sigh of relief.

“Your wrist,” Eric told Will, and instantly Will placed his hand in Eric’s and Eric immediately did the same to Will’s metal bracelet and it popped off effortlessly.

Will rubbed his wrist soothingly as Eric walked around to the half-naked guard on the ground and duct taped his mouth shut and shoved him up to the bed.

“You- Put this on,” Eric directed to the guard on the ground, throwing Will’s old hospital pants at him and ordering him to get on the bed.

The guard shakily obeyed and Hannibal tossed the guard’s uniform under the bed. Hannibal ran over to the bed and strapped the guard down, throwing the comforter over him in case someone walked by the room and mistook the guard for Will.

Hannibal picked up the gun and put it in his other pocket.

By the time he turned around, Eric had helped Will into his full nurse’s uniform. Will looked painfully frail, not getting decent exercise in months and having lost a significant amount of weight over the time.

“Good. Now, quickly- we don’t have much time. Follow us,” Hannibal spoke to Will, who was still in a state of bewilderment.

Eric and Hannibal raced to the door and looked back, seeing Will stuck in place, his skinny shaky legs frozen under him in fear.

“Will, we need to go, _now!”_ Hannibal cried, running over and grabbing Will’s arm and shoving him along.

The three men sped-walked down the hall, Will tripping over himself multiple times, not used to having to run. Eric was close behind him in case he did fall, but he thankfully never did.

Eric had planned out a specific maze-like course through the facility that lead through the areas with the least security.

They crossed the halls, went up two different elevators, all while passing several nurses and guards and noticing how they didn’t look twice at Will. The disguise must have been working.

Will was huffing and puffing behind them as they ran. He was so fragile and out of shape that he had barely any energy left in him to keep going.

“How…Much…Longer…?” he huffed between breaths.

  
Hannibal hurried behind him and placed a hand on his back, ushering him along supportively.

“Almost there. We just need to get to the west elevator and we’re home free,” Eric whispered to him as they continued on.

In that moment, all three men were positive that they were going to make it out- when suddenly an alarm went off in the building.

Hannibal knew the sound of that alarm before, and knew that it was only saved for code orange’s: when a violent patient escapes.

“The elevator, there-“ Eric pointed once they made it to the end of the hall.

The three men raced the door and pressed the ‘up’ button and a few moments later, the door opened to reveal several nurses in their respective uniforms.

Hannibal smiled and nodded to them and glanced back at Will with a look that said “act natural.” Will looked back up at him, understanding the message and quickly drew his gaze forward again. They entered the elevator nonchalantly despite the faint blaring of alarms in the background. Hannibal pressed the third button from the top instead of the top floor to reduce suspicions.

The nurses mumbled to themselves and all three men felt like they were holding their breath, waiting for the other two nurses to leave so they could relax.

A minute went by and the nurses eventually left. Once the doors closed, Will began to hyperventilate.

“Will, Will, you have to calm down- Listen to me,” Hannibal whispered to him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly to try to ground him

“We’re-We’re not gonn- oh my god oh my god-“ Will gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks and his chest heaving.

“He’s having a panic attack-“ Hannibal whispered to Eric. “Will, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, We’re almost there. Just hang on for a few more minutes.”

“I- I can’t, I can’t do it, I’m sorry-“ Will sputtered, grabbing at the fabric around his chest and neck frantically. 

Hannibal took Will's chin and tilted it up gently to make eye contact with him and took Will's trembling hands in his own.

“Yes you can. You can do this. I need you to stay calm. We need you to get your breathing together. Alright? Take a deep breath with me. Ready? Inhale…1, 2, 3, good… and exhale,” Hannibal directed, rubbing small circles on Will's back to help calm him. Will shakily obeyed, taking in an unsteady breath and exhaling it softly.

“Good, We’re almost there, just a little while longer, okay?" 

“O-…Okay, okay…” Will sputtered, taking deep breaths and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Eric watched the numbers above the door climb and climb until suddenly, the elevator stopped- and just five floors below their destination.

The men froze.

“…What’s happening?” Will whispered.

“I…I don’t know,” Hannibal replied honestly.

Suddenly, the numbers began to fall and the elevator began to descend.

“Hannibal?” Will cried, holding his trembling hands.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Everyone stay calm,” Hannibal instructed as he began frantically pressing buttons, but nothing seemed to work.

Someone was hacking into the elevator’s system.

“Let me see,” Eric said, moving Hannibal aside and opened the small door directly below the buttons, exposing the wires. He immediately began work and pressed several buttons and maneuvered wires. Hannibal and Will peered over his shoulder curiously.

In as lucky as fifteen seconds, the elevator miraculously stopped on the 43rd floor,about twenty floors up from their destination.

The doors slowly opened to reveal an empty concrete hallway. They peered their heads out, making sure that they were alone before quickly stepping out and heading down the hallway.

“The bad news is that they’ve rigged the elevators. The good news is, there’s an emergency stairwell just down the hall that will lead us to the 60th floor. It's there that we'll find the north exit,” Eric explained.

The three sprinted down the hall, Will huffing and puffing behind them as they reached a white metal door with a pin pad beside it.

“I got this,” Eric mentioned as he quickly typed in a series of numbers and instantly the door opened. Hannibal figured the codes were only reserved for guards or security staff- and understandably so.

The three began their 18-story climb to the exit. Hannibal and Eric were both in good shape, but Will on the other hand was exhibiting a serious struggle. For his entire five-month period of being in the facility, he barely got any proper exercise or sustainable meals. He had lost at least fifteen pounds and most of it was muscle.

He was only able to climb three or four stories before he began to seriously lag behind the other two.

“I…I can’t do it,” Will huffed, taking off his mask, his face bright red and sweat was glistening down his forehead.

Eric and Hannibal looked back at him, then to themselves. Hannibal didn’t hesitate any longer. Eric took Hannibal’s bag as the doctor raced down to Will and immediately lifted him up bridal style. Will was startled by this and blushed, looking up at the doctor, then nervously away as he raced up the stairs.

With Will in Hannibal’s arms, they made far more distance and in about ten minutes, they had made it to the last few floors.

Finally, they were only one floor away- one floor away to freedom, _real_ freedom.

The stairwell lead to one last door and Eric entered in the appropriate code and the door swung open, but what they found was anything but relieving.

There, standing in front of the exit doors, smugger than she ever had been, was Dr Bedelia Du Maurier accompanied by three armed guards who had their weapons pointed at the three men.


	27. Chapter 27

Bedelia and the two armed guards stood smugly before the three disheveled men. They looked like they had been waiting there for a while and knew it was only a matter of time until the three ran into them.

“Put your hands in the air,” one of the guards ordered and Hannibal slowly set Will down and the three obeyed the command.

Bedelia looked them up and down and smiled.

“Why hello there Dr Lecter, C-154, and Agent Eric Hudson- and yes, I know who you are. I’ve known who you are for weeks,” she told them.

Eric smirked down at her, surprised that she saw through him so quickly and even more surprised that she allowed him on the staff- or maybe this was all just a way of manipulating them.

Suddenly, two of the guards grabbed Hannibal and Eric, slamming them against the wall, leaving Bedelia and Will alone in the center of the room. The third guard held his weapon aimed at Will, just in case he made a move.

“C-154, it’s good to see you up and walking,” Bedelia said, circling around him like a cobra about to strike its prey.

Will said nothing, absolutely petrified. This was the exact reason he didn’t want to partake in this escape in the first place. A part of him always knew that he’d be caught and with what little physical and emotional strength he had left, he knew he’d be helpless.

“I love the new look you’ve got there. ‘Very dashing,” she mocked.

Will closed his eyes and wished for anything to rid him of the unbearable humiliation he felt.

  
“You know, I knew that you would give into that destructive nature of yours again, and you-“ she turned to Eric. “You’re just another cog in a machine, but you-“ she continued, turning to Hannibal, who was trying to wrestle his way out of the guard’s grip. _“I expected better from you.”_

“Now I was going to ignore that little mishap you had last week and give you a second chance at another facility…but directly aiding in the escape of a dangerous and mentally ill subject? Now I can see where your priorities are.”

Hannibal strained and looked down at his wrist watch and saw that it was 3:49am. Abigail and Stephen would be arriving soon at the door.

“Oh, am I boring you, Dr Lecter? I do apologize. It’s not every day I get to have these kinds of thrills in my work life,” Bedelia smirked. “Now, C-154 here has given us quite a rollercoaster of a time, haven’t you?” she continued circling him and dragging a stealthy head across his shoulders.

“And I’m sure there’s some publicist out there who would die to have your story-any of your stories!- and we can’t have that now, can we?”

“Let them go,” Will suddenly spoke, just under a whisper.

“What was that?” Du Maurier asked, drawing her attention back to Will.

“I’ll stay…and I’ll be good…if you let them go,”

“Will, no-“ Hannibal tried to object.

“Awww, how sweet,” Bedelia laughed. “But I hate to inform you that due to facility code 2166, in the event of an assisted escape attempt of a patient, all recipients will be severely punished. C-154, you have nothing to lose so it must be mighty easy to selflessly sacrifice yourself, now is it?” Dr Du Maurier mentioned. “How noble of you- how gracious, but your cooperation isn’t worth much as it only lasts for the next couple of days. You could try and give us hell, but it wouldn’t mean anything now.”

Will tried to control his breathing and weigh his emotions down.

“You see, two days from now, we’ll retrieve you from your cell, make sure you’re nice and healthy, then take you down to the operating room.”

Hannibal was furious in that moment he could spit. Eric had never seen anything like this in his career and could only watch helplessly while he had a gun to his head.

“We’ll get you all settled in, make sure you’re comfortable. Then we’ll give you a little something to hush you to sleep, and that will be the last conscious moment of your tiny, little, life.”

Hannibal couldn’ttake any more of this. He was at his boiling point.

Dr Du Maurier circled behind Will and suddenly grabbed both his wrists and held them behind him. Will yelped in surprise, trying to wrestle his way out, but losing so much muscle and running up those stairs had left him with so little strength that fighting back wasn’t an option.

_“Don’t you dare touch him!”_ Hannibal screamed, but the doctor had no interest in listening.

“First, we’ll take your kidneys…then your liver, then your pancreas,” she began, using her other hand and creeping it around to jab him in the side with her finger. 

“-And don’t worry, we’ll be keeping you alive enough to pull you through ‘till the end,” Du Maurier taunted. “Then, we’ll remove the lung…and just as you’re breathing your last breath…we’ll take the heart,” she described, her hand creeping up to hover over his pounding chest.

Will closed his eyes, trying to mentally escape from the situation he was in. He never thought that that simple drive down to Montreal with Abigail would wind him up here in the arms of this sociopath and looking death in its eyes.

“Oh-…but here’s the catch. This little incident has given us some time to think and we’re going to switch up our schedule a bit…We’ve decided that we’ll be keeping you awake for the procedure. You’ll feel everything.”

Hannibal’s rage burned through him like a wildfire. He clenched his teeth and glanced at Eric, who quickly glanced back. Hannibal shared a small nod and instantly Eric knew what to do. They had planned for a moment like this and now was their last chance.

“And this time, I’ll be sure to savor every…last…breath,” she spoke, wrapping an arm around his neck, her nails scraping his skin delicately like a venus fly trap ensnaring its victim.

Suddenly, at the same time, Hannibal and Eric slammed the back of their foot into the gut of their captor, kicking the wind out of them. The third guard and Dr Du Maurier didn’t even have enough time to look over before Eric had disarmed both men and kicked the gun out of the third guard’s grasp.

Hannibal felt one of the guards behind him try to grab him, and without thinking, grabbed the gun from his pocket from his pocket and promptly shot the man in the stomach. The guard screamed and stumbled back and Eric took his own weapon and shot the other two other guard between his eyes, killing him instantly before racing to the door.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot him,” Dr Du Maurier’s calm voice broke over the noise and just as Eric busted open the door, Hannibal turned around to find Dr Du Maurier with a pistol to Will’s head.

“Eric, Eric stop-“ Hannibal tried to say but Eric was already one step out the door.

“Hannibal- Hannibal I see them!” Eric cried, waving to the small car in the distance.

———

Meanwhile, Abigail and Stephen sat in the van at the exact coordinates Hannibal had told them. They found themselves in a deep forest of eucalyptus trees and brush. They watching the minutes tick by over 3:55 and well into 4am. The sky was in its’ beginning stages of sunrise and the lighter the sky got, the more their anxiety rose. Abigail’s foot tapped against the floor of the van nervously.

“He said to be here at 3:55! Where is he?!” she called, cracking her knuckles and twiddling her thumbs out of anxiousness.

“I…I don’t know….” Stephen responded nervously, his hand gripping the steering wheel, waiting for any signal or response.

“Do you think this was a trap?” Abigail asked.

“It’s the only hope we have,” Stephen spoke, his voice wavering.

“Hey, what’s that?” Abigail peeped, pointing up ahead to a movement. It looked like a man, waving his arms frantically.

“Drive up ahead a bit.”

Stephen started the car, and moved a few yards ahead to see a small shack in the distance disguised with shrubbery and moss, blending it in perfectly with the background.

“What the hell?!” Stephen exclaimed as he squinted, turning on his headlights. As soon as the light hit the shack, the scene was illuminated.

Abigail rolled down her window and looked out. Instantly, her heart leapt.

_“…Oh my god…Oh my god!”_ Abigail cried. _“It’s him! It’s him!”_

———

Suddenly, a bright light hit them and Will flinched, but when he opened his eyes, he saw two bright beams in the distance: headlights.

“Tell him to get inside or I’ll shoot him,” Dr Du Maurier told Hannibal calmly.

“Eric…Eric!” Hannibal tried to signal, but Eric was clearly in no mood to comply.

_“DAD!”_

Will’s entire world froze upon hearing that word. That voice…He couldn’t believe it. Perhaps his brain was going into survival mode and was experiencing auditory hallucinations from the sheer amount of stress he was enduring. There was no way that it could be-

“…Abigail?” Will mumbled.

Du Maurier froze, recognizing the name and voice. Her memories instantly flooded with images from the day she allowed Will to call his daughter and the unfamiliar twinge of guilt she felt. Hearing the young girl’s voice again brought back feelings that she’d worked for weeks to suppress. There was a reason why she separated herself from Will’s case and this was exactly why- only this time, she wasn’t going to let her feelings influence her this easy.

“Take one more step and he dies,” Du Maurier told Hannibal, pressing the gun harder to Will’s temple. “Drop your weapon.”

Hannibal froze. He looked back at Eric, who looked back at him. They were so close. Their ride to freedom was right there within eyesight. Will’s daughter was right there and Hannibal could think of nothing he’d want to do less than to bring a desperate daughter out in the middle of the night only to subject her to her father’s murder.

Hannibal looked back at the doctor, then at Will, who was standing helplessly before him

“In less than 90 seconds, there will be 200 armed men at the exact spot we’re at now. You’ll be surrounded, as well as whoever’s waiting out there for you,” Dr Du Maurier stated, her grip firm on the pistol aimed at Will’s temple.

“This is the end of the line, boys,” she said, pressing the gun harder into Will’s temple.

Will squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his entire life begin to slow down to this moment. He held in his emotions and took a deep breath. Showing any sign of weakness in this moment would destroy him. He had suffered enough humiliation in these five months to last him a lifetime. He would not grant her a minute longer.

——

“Stephen, give me the gun,” Abigail directed.

She wasn’t afraid anymore.

——

“I see that there’s no reasoning here, so I’ll leave you with this. It’s true, C-154 that you were a model subject-” Du Maurier began, slowly shifting her position to stand directly behind him, pointing the gun to the back of his head.

“But when it comes down to it…in the end, you’ll always be nothing but a lab rat.”

Suddenly, Will moved- he quickly twisted his arms out of her grip and bent down to grab her leg and tug it under him as fast as he possibly could. As she slipped, she grabbed Will’s leg and swiped underneath it, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Will and Dr Du Maurier began an epic battle of brawn, twisting under each other trying to choke the other out or disarm the other. Will grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her aside, trying to crawl out. Hannibal reached out to lift him off her, but Bedelia grabbed Will and pinned him down.

Eric continued to signal down Abigail and Stephen while Hannibal tried to pull Du Maurier off of Will, but she was surprisingly strong. She straddling Will like a wild bull, her normally clean, well-kept hair was now a frizzy mess and her makeup was smeared across her face like war paint.

She grabbed her gun from off the ground and immediately held it to Will’s chest.

“NO!” Hannibal cried, when suddenly, the sound of a gun firing struck the air like lightning followed by a loud scream.

When Hannibal opened his eyes, he saw Dr Du Maurier bleeding on the floor, her shoulder gushing out blood, staining her white coat.

Will slowly opened his eyes as he felt the weight fall off him. The two men looked down at Bedelia who was gasping in pain, trying to stop the blood flow.

Hannibal and Will looked at each other to find that neither one of them was holding a weapon.

Then their attention slowly drew out the door into the forest scene in front of them.

They looked up and saw no other than a teenage girl with straight black hair, blue eyes, and pale freckled skin standing in the distance holding a shotgun.


	28. Chapter 28

Abigail slowly looked up from her weapon and saw the scene of a pale man in a bloody nurse’s uniform with brown curls peaking out from under his cap and kind, familiar eyes, laying on the ground with a limp body over him.

Dr Du Maurier twitched slightly, her mouth open in unspoken agony. The moment was remarkably ironic and Will balanced out his shock with the silent pleasure of watching her writhe in pain at the exact act that she’d done onto him months ago.

Will quickly shoved her off and Hannibal quickly helped him to his feet, putting an arm around his shoulder and quickly helping him out the door.

“DAD! DAD, IS THAT YOU?” Abigail called into the distance.

“Abigail?!” Will spoke, his eyes glued to the image of her in the distance.

“DAD!” Abigail cried, sprinting to him as if her life depended on it.

Hannibal steadied him on his feet as Will limped forward as fast as his legs could carry him.

The sight of his daughter running towards him and getting closer and closer was enough to spark a new stream of tears that raced down his cheeks.

The distance between them grew smaller and smaller and like an explosion, Will embraced his daughter. To hold and be held was a beautiful thing in that moment and they clung onto each other in a way as if both of them had practiced for it for months. Will ran his hand over her head protectively and she dug her head into his chest, her tears staining his nurse’s garbs. Will was so touched starved that being able to hug someone- let alone his own daughter was all he had ever wanted.

Hannibal and Eric hurried up to them, Hannibal wiping a tear from his own eye.

“I-I thought I’d never see you again!” Abigail sobbed.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Will hushed her, holding her tight to him.

Suddenly, Will broke away and looked her up and down. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? And young lady- who taught you how to shoot a gun?!” he cried.

Abigail smiled and looked back at the van. Stephen waved from the window.

“Stephen?!” Will cried, squinting through the blaring headlights.

As much as Hannibal and Eric hated to break up the waterworks party, they knew that time was running out.

“Hurry- We don’t have much time. We’ve got to get ou-“

Then suddenly, a BANG of a gun pierced the air and Will gasped, his body growing immediately tight. Abigail screamed, covering her mouth with her hands as she watched Will stumble forward. Hannibal quickly stepped in and grabbed Will before he could fall. Will slowly put a hand up to his head and felt blood wash steadily over his hand.

They all slowly turned back to the door to find a half-conscious Dr Du Maurier crawling on the ground with her pistol held tightly in her hand. She scowled at them one last time before slowly lowering her gun and immediately falling unconscious in a pool of her own blood.  
  
They turned their attention back to Will who was still in a state of shock.

“Oh my god…” Abigail muttered, watching helplessly as the blood began to trickle down Will’s neck. Will brought a trembling hand up to his head to feel the wound, then lowered his hand to gawk in horror at the bright red fluid that now stained his skin.

“Quick, get in!” Stephen shouted as they all clambered in the van, Hannibal and Abigail each on either side of Will helping him up and slammed the van doors behind him. As soon as everyone was in, Stephen slammed on the gas and they whizzed away through the forest road.

They had laid towels on the floor of the van and arranged Will to lay down, a rolled up blanket placed under his head for support. Abigail opened the medical bag they brought and Hannibal immediately began shouting orders at her and Eric as if he was back in the operating room in the facility.

They rolled Will on his side and Hannibal removed his nurses’ cap to show a dark wet patch of blood that stained his hair.

“Oh my god…” Abigail whispered, watching as Will began to tremble and Hannibal go immediately into doctor-mode. 

“Abigail, get the disinfectant and some fresh gauze,” Hannibal told her.

“Oh- I, uh…okay, okay,” Abigail replied shakily, hurrying over to fetch the items from the medical kit.

“Oh god, I’m going to die…I’m going to die…” Will began whispering to himself, his eyes wide from the pain.

“He’s not going to die- I promise,” Hannibal told Abigail calmly as if he genuinely believed it from a professional standpoint as he began to clean the wound.

“Don’t look, honey…don’t look…” Will mumbled to Abigail.

“I’m fine, dad. I’m not going anywhere,” Abigail said, holding onto his hand lovingly.

“Will, you’re going to be alright- it looks like the bullet only grazed the scalp, but I need you to stay awake, okay? I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake,” Hannibal directed Will, looking him over and assessing that the situation was thankfully not too serious.

Will tried to nod, but he hissed in pain as moving his head up and down sent a wave of pain through him. Abigail reached over and held his hand, which seemed to significantly help Will as the discomfort immediately left his face.

  
“Shhh, don’t move. Where’s the nearest hospital?!” Hannibal called.

“About 30 minutes away,” Stephen called from the front seat.

  
“Dammit,” Hannibal muttered under his breath.

“No hospitals, please no hospitals…” Will mumbled.

"It's going to be alright- It'll be different. You'll have us with you. I'll make sure nothing happens to you," 

"No, no, no," Will sobbed.

Eric, who was in the back watching the scene unfold, quickly dug into a pocket of the medical bag and retrieved a small plastic rectangular box.

“Here, this should help. ‘Glad I remembered to pack them-“ he said, handing the box to Hannibal.

Hannibal drew his attention away from tending to Will and turned to accept the box. When he opened it, he found three capped needles containing a white clear fluid: morphine.

“Oh thank goodness. Thank you, Eric,” Hannibal sighed in relief, uncapping the syringe and pressing the plunger to remove any air bubbles.

Will saw the syringe and immediately his instincts kicked in and he began to panic.

“No, no, no, no…” he mumbled, trying to scoot himself away.

  
  
“It’s alright, Will. It’s just a pain killer-“ Hannibal spoke calmly, reaching for Will’s arm, but he pulled it away.

“Please don’t, please don’t…” Will begged, holding his arm to his chest protectively.

Abigail had never seen her father this way before. Back at home, he was this strong, confident father figure who drove trucks, was a hunter, and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. All the memories she had of him when he was a kid, such as him killing a spider in the corner of her room for her or comforting her during a thunder storm, were all contrasted dramatically with the man she saw trembling on the ground in front of her. He looked fragile and more afraid than she’d ever seen him. She knew that deep down, he was still the same man, but now he looked like a broken, damaged version of that man. He looked ragged, thin and brittle. Abigail had no idea what her father had gone through in the last five months, but she now truly understood that he’d been through an incredibly severe trauma.

“Just stay still- we’re trying to help you,” Hannibal told Will sternly, grabbing his wrist and pulling it towards him. Will tried to resist, but he’d grown so weak at this point from the malnourishment, blood loss, and shock that he barely had any struggle left to give.

Hannibal straightened out his arm and rolled up his sleeve. Eric tied a tourniquet around Will’s bicep and Hannibal flicked the inside of Will’s arm to find a vein. Will turned his head away and closed his eyes as Hannibal readied the syringe.

“Shhh, you’re alright. Just a pinch here,” he warned before sliding the needle into his arm and plunging the painkiller into his veins. After administering the injection, Hannibal removed the needle and unwrapped a small piece of gauze and taped it onto the puncture wound.

They watched as a few seconds passed and the fear on Will’s face began to melt away. His grip on Abigail’s hand loosened and he let out a gentle sigh.

“A bit better?” Hannibal asked.

Will’s eyes stayed closed but he slowly nodded, his breathing beginning to slow as calmness overflowed him. Hannibal brushed the hair out of his face and continued to clean the wound on the side of his head.

“Hey, um…I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you and Eric for what you’ve done for us. You both risked your lives for my dad and…I don’t know how to repay you.”

Hannibal and Eric smiled and gave each other a glance.

“You’re very welcome,” Hannibal replied. “-And thank you to you as well for your commitment and trust. Each and every one of us had a part to play in saving him.”

As the five of them sat silently in the van on the ride back. Stephen tried to drive as quickly as he could while going slow over speed bumps to make the ride as easy for Will as possible. After Hannibal had dressed Will’s wounds and had cleaned up as much as he could, Abigail felt an unspoken tension grow.

“So…are we not going to talk about any of this?” she spoke.

Hannibal looked up at her, then over to Eric, who silently looked back.

“About what?” Hannibal asked.

“…Um…Everything?” Abigail asked. “What happened to him? Who that woman was? What they did to him? How you knew all about it?”

Hannibal put away the medical kit and set it aside before looking down at Will sympathetically. He figured it would be best for Will not to be in the room when he told Abigail the truth. He last thing Will needed was to be reminded of the trauma he’d had to suffer through.

“You'll know in due time,” Hannibal replied, bringing his attention back onto Will who was resting in a deep state of drug-induced relaxation. 

Hannibal had spent so much time with Will over the past few months and had had such a unique, intimate relationship with him that he felt a twinge of jealously and protectiveness over him. He knew it was silly to be jealous of Will’s own daughter, but it was more over the fact that she had so many more years and memories with Will than he had. He knew these emotions were wrong on his part, but the feeling was almost overpowering.

Then struck him like a hammer; this feeling was familiar. It was fiery and ensnaring, and as hard as it was to admit it, he knew it from the beginning that this was rich and powerful love.


	29. Chapter 29

The 30 minute drive was set to an uncomfortable silence, Hannibal fawning over Will while Abigail looked at the two of them suspiciously.

Once they reached the nearest hospital, Stephen pulled the van up along the side of the road and looked over the seat at the four of them.

“So…are we doing this or…?” he asked them, not knowing if they’d fully decided to admit Will to the hospital or go with another approach.

Hannibal shifted his gaze from Stephen to Will, who was half conscious and drugged off his head and covered in blood stains. He remembered the terror in Will’s voice just minutes ago when he begged for no “hospitals,” and a deep guilt rushed over him.

“You know what-“ Hannibal began, reaching over to rub Will’s shoulder affectionately. “Just take us to your home. I’ll take care of his medical necessities.”  
  
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Dr Lecter,” Abigail started.

“I insist. I don’t believe it’s best for Will’s mental health to be in any medical facility- at least for the next few days. It would be my honor to be his caregiver until then.”

Abigail pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“I mean…if you insist,” she added, sharing a faint glance with Stephen, who seemed just as confused as she was. Abigail hadn’t even known anything about this man and he was acting as if he knew her father best. She looked down at Will, who automatically leaned into Hannibal’s touch. All she wanted was answers.

They pulled up at Stephen’s little white house in the suburbs with the green roof and wire fence and immediately his wife, Clair hurried outside in a bathrobe and rushed up to the car.

Stephen rolled down the window and she hurried up, crying out if they found Will. Slowly, the van door opened and her questions were answered. Will laid motionless on the floor

“Good god…is he-?”

“He’s alive,” Hannibal answered.

“What happened to his arm?! Who the hell are these guys?!” she cried out to Stephen, looking Hannibal and Eric up and down.

“It’s alright. They’re…friends,” Stephen told her with an uncertain tone in his voice.

“Here, allow me-“ Hannibal began, about to help Will into the house, but Abigail was one step ahead of him.

“No, I’ve got him- Don’t worry. You’ve helped enough,” Abigail told him genuinely as she slowly wrapped an arm around her father’s shoulders and lifted him up. Claire quickly ran to her aid and took Will’s other shoulder.

As the two girls helped Will out of the van, Hannibal watched in contemplation, his finest clothes stained with blood and his expression distant and distracted.

“Doctor Lecter? I should be heading back to the office now. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do on this case,” Eric began.

“Oh of course, Agent Hudson. Thank you again for your bravery and determination through tonight. I would have never been able to do it without you- I cannot thank you enough. I only with there was some detonable evidence from tonight that-“

“Actually, that was the other thing I wanted to tell you. You’ll probably be asked to testify in court because…” Eric started as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small tape recorder. He rewinded the tape and pressed play:  
  
_“-And I’m sure there’s some publicist out there who would die to have your story-any of your stories!- and we can’t have that now, can we?”_ Dr Du Maurier’s voice echoed from the receiver.

The longer Hannibal listened to the tape of Du Maurier threatening Will with the details of his soon-to-be-murder, the more entertained he was at the thought of the FBI or CIA handling the tape. They played it all the way until the end where a gunshot was heard.

“You’re brilliant, Agent Hudson,” Hannibal turned to Eric.

“I try,” Eric replied simply with a smirk.

“Hey, bud I can give you a ride to wherever you need to go. It’s the least I could do. Dr Lecter, why don’t you go inside and help out with Will,” Stephen offered.

Hannibal nodded and collected the medical bag before turning to thank Eric again and wish him the very best of luck in the future investigations. He hopped out of the van, closing the door and rushing into the house to aid Clair and Abigail with Will’s needs.

When he entered the house, he found Abigail and Clair setting some towels down on the couch and laying Will down. It was obvious that the morphine was still present in his system as he was mumbling and clawing at the bandages on his head.

“What’s wrong with him?! What the hell happened?!” Clair shouted, turning frantically from Abigail to Hannibal for answers.

“I’m…trying to figure that out too…” Abigail commented, before turning and making firm eye contact with Hannibal “But this guy knows…”

“My name is Dr Hannibal Lecter…I’m- or I formally was a physician and surgeon at the government facility where Will was kept for all these months. I’ve worked with him for a little under three months and a times was his only companion,”

“What do you mean worked with him?” Abigail hounded, immediately suspicious. “I mean it didn’t seem as if you were punching your cards and having your lunch break together.”

“No- I mean…I worked as the director of his care,” Hannibal tried to explain.

“What _care?”_ Clair asked. “What are you talking about?! Why was Will in care?!”

The pressure in the room began to rise as Hannibal felt himself being interrogated relentlessly. The conversation was interrupted by Will calling Hannibal’s name.

_“Hannibal…bathroom,”_ Will mumbled.

“Please give me a moment,” Hannibal said to the two of them as he rushed to Will’s bedside and wrap his arm around Will’s shoulders and lift him up, allowing him to lean all his weight on him as they stumbled down the hall to the bathroom.

Clair and Abigail looked at each other in confusion, only getting shards of the story and trying to mentally put together a solid picture with them.

Meanwhile, Hannibal lead Will into the bathroom, shut the door, and helped Will used the restroom while he ran a bath for him.

He helped Will out of his clothes, leaving on his pair of hospital-issued boxers for modesty.

“Hanni-…Hannibal?” Will mumbled as the doctor lifted him up by his arms and knees and lowering him into the warm water, placing the arm with the cast over the side of the tub so it wouldn't get wet.

Will shrieked in surprise at the temperature and struggled a bit, but Hannibal was right at his side to calm him down.

“Shhh…It’s okay-“ Hannibal shushed as Will slowly sunk into the soothing waters.

“You…saved me. You saved my freakin’ life,” Will slurred to him.

Hannibal smirked and poured some soap on a washcloth and began gently scrubbing the dried blood off Will’s skin.  
  
“I can’t believe you did it…I would have been dead by now,” Will spoke from behind half-lidded eyes.

“I couldn’t leave you there. Not after how much you’ve changed me- made me feel things I couldn’t imagine I could feel,” Hannibal confessed. “You’ve changed my life, Will.”

Will slowly brought his gaze around to look the doctor in the eyes. Hannibal stopped what he was doing to meet Will’s eye contact. Hannibal admired the man’s green sparkling eyes and long lashes- even with half his head bandaged and drugged up to his gills, Will was beautiful.

The two men stared into each other’s eyes tenderly before Will slowly sat up and suddenly leaned in to Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal’s eyes went wide and he moved away cautiously.

“No, Will, I can’t-Not like this. It’s the morphine-“ Hannibal tried to object, internally starstruck at the situation, but not wanting to take advantage of Will.

“Shhhhh shush-a-shush…” Will whispered, pressing a finger to Hannibal’s lips before closing his eyes leaning back in, his hand traveling down Hannibal’s face. Hannibal grabbed Will’s wrist, tensing up a bit out of guilt, but finally feeling the man’s soft lips against his own- a moment he dreamt about- he finally let go of all the walls he’d built up and gave into temptation.  
  
He and Will shared a tender moment, clinging onto each other, Hannibal running his hands through Will’s hair, Will grabbing onto Hannibal’s blouse, pulling him closer.

Hannibal ran a hand down Will’s chest, the quiet echoes of breaths heaving and bath water splashing filling the room.

Their intimate moment was interrupted by Hannibal peering open his eyes and seeing the bathwater turn a startling shade of red from the blood that was washing off. Hannibal looked at the water in concern before moving back, gently pushing Will off him.

“Will, no,” Hannibal stopped. “I can’t do this with you- not in the state you’re in. It wouldn’t be right.”

“It’z fine, it’z fine,” Will slurred, leaning in again, but Hannibal pressed him back down into the water gently. 

“No, it’s not. Now lay back-“

Will whined a bit in disappointment before obeying and sulking in the tub, letting Hannibal take the towel and scrub him down. Hannibal noted that after everything they’d been through together, the bath felt more like a baptism; him cleaning away the evidence of the past few months and soothing the sores of their escape.

Hannibal leaned over and pealed back the bandages on the side of Will’s head to examine the wound on his scalp. Will didn’t even flinch, which was a sign that the morphine was definitely doing its job. The wound was about two inches long and wide- there was no doubt he would need stitches, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Hannibal had all the skills do to so, but he’d need to make a supplies run. Until then, all he could do was make sure Will was safe and comfortable. He could only feel thankful that at least there was someone in the house that had a medical background.

Afterwards, he helped lift Will from the bath and dry him off, making sure to mind his injuries. Claire dropped some clean clothes by the door: a blue flannel and some wool pajama pants. Hannibal doubted that Will had worn anything more comfortable in months. He helped Will get dressed and slowly assisted him up the stairs to the guest bedroom. He laid him down in the bed and instantly Will drifted off to sleep.

After Hannibal had double checked that Will was comfortable, he creeped out the door and slowly closed it behind him.

Abigail and Clair were waiting outside, looking up and down at Hannibal, not sure whether to thank him or interrogate him.

Hannibal looked between the two and ran his hands over his face.

“I’ll tell you everything, but I’ll need a drink first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic is coming to an end- I'm running into a bit of writers block so thank you to everyone for your patience. Next chapter will pop up within the next few days.


	30. Chapter 30

The talk with Abigail and Clair took much longer than Hannibal had expected. Half way through Stephen came home and learned the other half of the story along with them and the four watched the sunrise through the window shades.

By the end, everyone’s eyes were teary.

“Wow…” was all Stephen could say.

“I just hope that you’ll see me now as less of a former-captor and more of-“

“You rescued him,” Abigail murmured.

Hannibal paused and smiled weakly. “It was a joint effort,” he rationed.

“How can we possibly begin to thank you?” Clair asked.

“There is no need. In fact, it’s about time I be on my way,” Hannibal answered. “I have quite a lot of work to do.”

“Are you sure? You can stay for breakfast if you like!” Clair asked.

“Yes, I think it’d be best if I head out,” Hannibal began, standing up. “Thank you very much for the drink.”

Hannibal smoothed out his shirt and headed for the door.

“Is there anything else we can do for you before you leave? I mean, we could gather some money together to-“ Stephen began.

“Oh, no there is no need for that. Knowing that Will is free and out of harms way is enough payment for me.”

“That’s…very kind of you, thank you,” Stephen added, opening the front door for him.

Hannibal stood in the doorway and quickly dug into his bag and removed a small business card from one of the pockets and handed it to Stephen.

“I would avoid taking Will to the hospital for the next few days due to his level of stress, so please do not hesitate to call me if he needs anything. I will never be too far away,” Hannibal offered as Stephen took the card and examined it.

“I see you’re based in Baltimore…?” Stephen commented.

“I used to be when I worked solely in psychiatry. That’s an old card, but the phone number is still active,” Hannibal explained.

“Ah, I see,” Stephen muttered.

  
“Will has a wound on his head and bruising on his abdomen so I would keep an eye on that. In case of emergency, call that number and I’ll be there in a flash.”

“We’ll keep you updated. Thank you so much again, Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal nodded to them politely before exiting. As the door gently closed behind him, he immediately felt drawn back and regretted not taking their offer to stay for breakfast. He knew he had to keep his cool, however, and not giving Will any space with his family bordered on inappropriate. He silently applauded himself for keeping his professionalism in explaining his interest in him however.

He relished in the fact that Will was a handful and it wouldn’t be long before he would receive a call from them. 

——

Hannibal was woken up around 1:30pm by the ringing of his cell. He was startled awake, but quickly answered it the moment he knew who it was.

“…Hello?” He answered.

“Uh, Hannibal? It’s Stephen. Uh, Will is um, acting- Will! Will no, put that down!”

“What’s happening?”

“I think he’s sleepwalking or having a night terror or something- He’s getting violent and uh,” Stephen tried to explain.

“Say no more. I’m on my way,”

\-----

About ten minutes later, Hannibal pulled up in their driveway dressed in a salmon-colored button up dress shirt and black slacks and carrying a medical bag.

Abigail immediately opened the door for him and ushered him inside.

“He’s having an episode. We don’t know what to do,” Abigail explained anxiously, her voice breaking.

Hannibal nodded and hurried up the steps to the house. He immediately heard shouting coming from upstairs.

“Will?!” Hannibal called as he rushed up the stairs and entered the guest bedroom. There was Will, up and about holding a wooden chair in front of him and swinging it in front of him as Stephen tried to get close and disarm him.

  
  
“Will, for fuck’s sake! Put down the goddamn chair!” Stephen called.

“YOU’RE ALL THE SAME! YOU’RE ALL THE FUCKING SAME!” Will shouted, swinging the chair defensively.

  
  
“Oh, Dr Lecter, thank god you’re here. All I did was come in to sweep and my phone went off and he just-“ Stephen tried to explain.

As soon as Will had noticed Hannibal enter the room, his stress level noticeably died down.

“Hannibal- tell them to call it off…Tell them to stop!” Will screamed.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Look at me, you’re alright,” Hannibal coo’d, stepping closer to him with his hands out non-threateningly.

“Tell them to stop! NOW!” Will cried, swinging the chair in front of him as Hannibal stepped back as to not be on the receiving end of his attack.

“Will, you’re having an episode. Look around you- You’re not trapped anymore. It’s just us,” Hannibal slowly told him with a calm, contained voice.

“Please don’t lie to me,” Will sputtered, his eyes starting to well up with tears.

“Listen to my voice. Take a deep breath. Last night, we brought you home. You suffered a head injury so we gave you something for the pain and-” Hannibal began.

“My…head?” Will murmured, reaching a hand up to feel the large bandage on his temple. “What the hell did you people do to my head?!”

“Will, you’re out of there. You’re home. You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Hannibal tried to tell him.

“What…What are you talking about?!” Will scowled.

“Listen to my voice. Take a deep breath. It’s just us. You’re home and you’re safe. You’re never going back there ever again, do you hear me? You’re safe,” Hannibal told him.

Will paused, as if the walls in his mind were starting to melt away and he slowly became more aware of his surroundings. He looked down at himself and his warm non-hospital issued pajamas and then back up at the sight of the cozy rustic bedroom. He turned and looked out the window and watched the leaves on the weeping willow trees sway with the wind and the birds faintly sing in the distance.

Will took a deep breath as he realized he was truly out. He dropped the chair.

“Good boy, good…” Hannibal applauded, slowly approaching him and wrapping him in an embrace.

“Did I hurt anyone?” Will whispered.

“No, no you didn’t hurt anyone, but we have to keep a close eye on you from now on,” Hannibal said.

“I’m sorry…” Will mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed, clinging onto Hannibal.

“It’s okay. We’ll get you back on your feet soon, alright?”

Will slowly nodded, his tears staining Hannibal’s shirt.

Stephen and Abigail watched from the doorway in fascination as Will’s entire demeanor changed from a rabid animal to a fragile, anxious man.

“Why don’t we get you a cup of tea and something to eat, hm?” Hannibal asked.

Will sniffed a bit and nodded. 

“Good. We need to get some more meat on your bones,” the doctor said playfully, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him downstairs.

Abigail and Stephen followed cautiously as Hannibal sat Will down at one of the chairs at the breakfast table. Abigail sat down next to Will and took his hand.

“Hey, uh, you still remember how to play poker, right?” Abigail asked her father.

Will slowly turned to her, his eyes half-vacant.

  
  
“…Sorry, what?” he asked.

“Poker. Remember? You taught me last Winter when we were snowed in.”

Will furrowed his brow, as if mentally trying to dig through his past to hopefully find another happy memory.

“Uh, I think so, yeah…”

“Would you like to play some now?” Abigail asked.

“Uh, sure, okay,” Will responded and Abigail slowly got up from her chair and returned with some cards and poker chips.

Meanwhile, Hannibal called Stephen forward and ushered him to the side where they could speak in privacy.

“I’m going to prescribe him some anti-psychotics. I think a solid mood stabilizer and some anti-anxiety meds might help relieve some of the symptoms of the trauma he’s experienced,” Hannibal whispered to him.

Stephen nodded in understanding.

“So your diagnosis then is…”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder is evident…night terrors…he clearly doesn’t have a firm, solid grasp on reality yet. It’s concerning, but not untreatable,” Hannibal confirmed.

“That’s…comforting, I guess,” Stephen commented. “Do you think he’ll have to be, uh, y’know…admitted somewhere?-Or if we need a nurse to come in or…?”

“I…would not recommend that at this stage. I think avoiding hospital environments is probably the best bet to go for the time being.”

Stephen nodded again before glancing back at Will in concern.

“It’s the first day home. He’s going to need time. I’ll fill in an order for the medication and bring it in later today, but for now, I’d give this to him tonight and see if he takes it willingly,” Hannibal told him, putting a small bottle out of his pocket with a few loose pills inside.

“What is it?” Stephen asked.

“75 milligrams of seroquel. Should help with sleep and agitation.”

“…And what if he doesn’t want to take it?”

“We’ll talk about that at a different time,” Hannibal replied.

“Hey, Steve, uh, you remember how to play blackjack, right?” Abigail asked.

“Yeah, definitely. We all in?”

Hannibal smiled. “I suppose you’ll have to teach me,” he said, sitting down at the table in the seat next to Will and joining them.

As they all sat together, Abigail noticed that every now and then, Will’s hands would start to shake and Hannibal would gently place his hand over his to stop the tremors.

She didn’t know how she felt about Hannibal’s close relationship with Will. She was obviously thankful to Hannibal beyond words for his part in bringing her father back to her, but she could tell that he wasn’t telling her everything, but seeing to the way he was so quickly soothed by Hannibal’s presence just a few minutes ago told her enough about how important he was to him.

In the end, Abigail won- as per usual. It was the first time that they’d seen Will laugh since returning back- and it was music to their ears.

Later that day, Hannibal helped make dinner and everyone was thoroughly impressed with his cooking abilities.

Clair came back from her work at the office around 6 and was enveloped with the array of wonderful smells.

“Where did you learn to cook, Hannibal?” Clair asked, surprised to see Hannibal at work in the kitchen making shrimp bisque with parsley while Will sat at the breakfast table close by reading a book.

Hannibal turned and smiled at her before turning back to preparing the meal.

“I’ve always had an interest in the culinary world. I’m just happy I’m able to bring that talent to this particular table,” he answered as he began plating the dishes.

Dinner went as planned. Will’s anxiety had definitely lessened, but every now and then, Hannibal could see a glistening behind his eyes that hinted to him experiencing sudden bouts of stress or panic- which was normal at this stage in mental recovery.

“I thought maybe we’d go fishing at the lake this weekend,” Stephen began, turning to Will. “You’d like that, would you?”

Will blinked and looked up, as if waking himself up from a trance.

“…Fishing?”

“Yeah, like old times, remember?” Stephen added.

“Uh…yeah, okay. That sounds nice,” Will spoke, taking small bites of his food as to not upset his stomach. Before being rescued, he’d been tube-fed for a little over a week so eating solid foods again felt like a new experience.

After dinner, Hannibal and Stephen helped Will early to bed and prepared to ask the dreaded question.

“What’s that?” Will asked, pointing to the pill in Hannibal’s hand.

“Something to help you sleep,” Hannibal answered honestly.

“I’m not taking that,” Will decided immediately.

“Will, I’m not in the mood to argue about this,” Hannibal replied.

“Don’t argue, then. I’m not taking it,” Will snapped back.

“I will _never_ force medication on you, but this is going to be the difficult part of your recovery. You have to understand that we’re trying to help you. There is no secret or malicious intent behind this. You suffer from severe insomnia and getting a good night’s sleep will help you feel more refreshed and improve your general wellbeing. Do you understand?” Hannibal asked.

Will just stared up at him, undecided.

“I would never, _ever_ hurt you, Will,” Hannibal added. “Nothing bad will happen to you- I swear on my life.”

Will looked up at the doctor and sighed in defeat.

Stephen stood in the doorway, watching in fascination as the man in bed slowly lifted his hand and took the pill.

Hannibal handed him a glass over water from the desk behind him and handed it to Will, who anxiously popped the pill in his mouth and took a few gulps of the drink before Hannibal accepted it again.

“Under your tongue please-“ Hannibal directed as Will reluctantly opened his mouth and lifted his tongue to show that he had, indeed, swallowed them.

“Good job, Will. Excellent job,” Hannibal applauded as Stephen sighed a breath of relief.

“Now, would you like me to stay with you for a bit or would you like privacy?” Hannibal asked politely.

This was the first time that Will had been given a choice over anything in his everyday life for five months. The small bit of freedom felt magical.

“Stay,” he chose. “I mean…You can stay if you’d like.”

Hannibal smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, giving a look to Stephen who gave him a gentle thumbs-up before closing the door behind him.


	31. Chapter 31

“Alright, just a pinch-“ Hannibal began, as Will laid on his side on the guest room bed as Hannibal begun treating WIll’s head injury. Hannibal had already shaved down the area and cleaned the wound again, but it still looked

“Just do it quick- like ripping off a bandaid,” Will mumbled.

“Well, I think this will take quite a bit longer than that, but-“

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Will replied playfully.

“Alright, take a deep breath. In-“ Hannibal directed as he took a small needle and injected the numbing agent under the skin.

Will hissed in pain and dug his face into the pillow as best he good without messing up Hannibal’s aim.

“Good, now we’ll let that sit for a minute or two,” Hannibal said, placing down the empty needle and rubbing Will’s shoulder affectionately.

“Uh, thanks again for, um, doing this,” Will spoke up.

“It’s my pleasure,” Hannibal answered. “We couldn’t keep this wound open forever.”

“I know, but you could have just…ya’know sent me away to the hospital and let them worry about me. I’m really glad you didn’t.”

“I would never just ‘send you away,’ Will. You’re not a burden,” Hannibal corrected.

“I’m…kinda sick of everyone feeling like I can’t take care of myself or I’m just this helpless fragile…thing,” Will said.

“Well…For now, at least-“ Hannibal began.

Will scoffed.

“Will, it’s only been four days. You’re still in the immediate recovery stage.”

Will suddenly turned and sat up, looking Hannibal in the eye.

“I’m not some delicate little flower, Hannibal,” he shot back.

“I understand that you want more freedom in this matter, but-“

“How do you think I feel after almost half a year of everyone making decisions for me and poking and prodding me and treating me like a child?”

“I know, but-“

“If you’re not going to let me have any say in anything then what was the even the point of breaking me out of there?!” Will yelled, sitting up and leaning on his elbows to face Hannibal.

“You don’t still see me that way, do you?” Hannibal replied. “As one of your captors?”

“I mean…no, but…” Will tried to explain. “I…I think I should stop talking now.”

Hannibal was hurt at the knowledge that Will still had mixed feelings towards him- even after all he did for him. As a psychiatrist, Hannibal understood that it would take time for Will to recover and adjust to his newly found freedom. However, it was news to him that Will mentally flip-flopped between seeing Hannibal as the man who committed horrible atrocities to him, and the man who saved his life.He knew this should be expected, but it still hurt to hear nonetheless.

After assessing that the numbing agent was working, Hannibal gently lowered Will’s head back onto the pillow and put on a pair of blue sterile gloves and began work.

Will sat patiently as Hannibal began threading the needle and sewing his wound back up. Every now and again, he’d feel a tug of pain and Hannibal would administer more local anesthesia and continue the work again. A few silent minutes went by until Hannibal was complete and he placed a new bandage over the wound.

“Well done, Will. We’re all done,” Hannibal concluded, helping him up into a seated position.

“Thanks,” Will replied quietly.

“You’re very welcome. I’ll give you some painkillers in about an hour,” Hannibal said as he began to clean up his station and pack everything away in his medical bag.

Will slowly nodded as Hannibal stood up and quietly exited the room, leaving Will alone with his thoughts.

——

Hannibal paced down the stairs to find Abigail and Stephen in the kitchen, waiting for his return and cooking lunch.

“How did it go?” Abigail asked Hannibal.

“Swimmingly,” Hannibal answered. “He’ll have a nasty scar for a while, but it’s better than an infection.”  
  
“That’s good to hear. Uh, is there any news on…Yaknow whatever Eric and the FBI are working on?” Stephen asked.

  
“Yes, actually. I-“ Hannibal began, but turned to find Will up and about walking down the stairs to meet them.

He looked tired, his eyes were puffy and he seemed unfocused.

“Hey there, stranger. How ‘ya feelin’?” Stephen asked Will.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Will replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sitting down at the table beside Abigail.  
  
“That’s gonna be a hell of a mark,” Stephen commented, eyeing the bandage over Will’s temple.

“If anyone asks, you could say you got attacked by a shark or something- and they’d probably believe you,” Abigail joked.

Will smirked, but his smile only lasted a few seconds before it sank back into a concerned frown.

“Hannibal was just about to update us on your legal case,” Stephen said.

“Ah yes, well, I got a call this morning from Eric…He said that the case is already underway. There will still be several months of further investigations and preparing, but Will’s case in particular helped to spark the first of many. Will, and myself may be asked to testify in court, but overall…it’s underway,” Hannibal informed.

“That’s great news!” Stephen exclaimed, setting down a bowl of vegetarian chili in front of Will.

Will looked down at the food and begrudgingly picked up his spoon and took a bite. He had definitely struggled with getting back into the swing of eating solid foods again. Hannibal encouraged him every step of the way, but recovery was never going to be easy.

“Um, dad, how does that make you feel?” Abigail asked, turning to him.

“…Sorry, what?” Will murmured, waking himself up from his trance.

“The FBI are investigating the facility you were in- right now. You might get money or people might go to jail or I don’t know. I would think you’d be more excited,” Abigail explained.

“I…I am- I’m relieved- I just don’t think I can feel it yet,” Will spoke.

“That’s completely normal for the stage you’re in, Will. This is going to take time and we all need to respect that,” Hannibal said, directing the last part to the rest of the group.

“I…I think I need some fresh air. Can I take the car, Steve?” Will asked.

Everyone visibly hesitated.

“Will, are you sure you’re ready? I mean, you haven’t been behind a wheel in a while- I mean you’ve barely left the house in these few days-“

“I’ll go with him,” Hannibal offered.

Will snarled, but understood that there was no way that they’d let him leave the house alone.

Hannibal gathered his and Will’s coat and followed Will out of the house and to the car. Will seemed distant, sitting himself in the drivers seat and fastening the seat belt.

Hannibal sat next to him and placed their coats in his lap.

“Where to?” the doctor asked.

Will was clearly annoyed at not having any moment of privacy, but he sighed defeatedly.

“I was uh, I was thinking the lake,” he answered.

“Alright then,” Hannibal replied before the car sprung to life and they proceeded down the woodsy path.

The drive was silent, Will focusing on the road and Hannibal wondering if there was something he should say to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Will,” Hannibal finally spoke.

The tenseness in Will loosened a bit at the apology.

“It’s…It’s okay- I guess I’m just feeling claustrophobic,” Will responded.

“I hope I haven’t contributed to that,” Hannibal replied.

“I mean…you’re here in the car with me when it was pretty obvious that I wanted to be alone,” Will mumbled.

“Are you upset with me, Will?”

“No, I mean…I’m less upset with you and more upset with the way I feel. I don’t…feel free yet,” Will confessed.

Hannibal furrowed his brow and allowed Will to continue.

“I’m very sorry that you still feel that way.”

“I mean, it’s not anyone’s fault. I just still feel…contained. I don’t feel like a person yet.”

“That is normal. For five months, you were treated like a science project- It will take some time to adjust to being seen as a human again.”

“I know, but…well…I guess I don’t know,” Will replied quietly before turning a corner and arriving at a small parking area by the lakeside. 

After the two men exited the car, Hannibal was about to help Will into his jacket, but stopped himself and politely handed it to him so he could put it on himself. Will silently noted this, and smiled softly.

They made their way up to a small bench overlooking the water. Everything felt so still in that moment and Hannibal fought the urge to hold the man’s hand or show any type of affection towards him

“Can I ask you a question, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will turned and raised his eyebrows in response.

“What would make you feel more free?” Hannibal questioned.

Will sighed and looked back at the lake.

“I think…I think Abigail and I are going to go back home to Virginia,” he said.

Hannibal paused.

“What?” the doctor mumbled.

“Abigail’s been out of school for months, I’ve been out of work for months- hell I was probably declared dead or fired for not showing up for almost half a year with no notice. We were only supposed to be in Canada for a week or two. We have a life back in Virginia. We have friends, family, a support system. Stephen and Clair have been an enormous help, especially for Abigail, but we can’t leach off them forever,” Will explained.

Hannibal exhaled understandingly.

“When were you thinking of leaving?” Hannibal asked.

“Probably in a few days- I need to mentally sort out a lot though before we do though,” Will answered.

“Sort what out?”

“My feelings towards you,” Will replied bluntly.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I feel like I can’t pinpoint how I feel about you. You were both the man who kept me under a lock and key - and my rescuer. My memories of you are contradictory to each other. I want to see you as an ally, but I can’t shake the emotions I felt on that table while you treated me like a guinea pig. I can’t forget how complicit you were in those months,” Will began.

Hannibal’s heart broke at those words. He wanted to tell Will all about how those moments were the most regrettable decisions he’d made in his life, but he stayed silent and allowed for Will to continue.

“I felt so betrayed by you- but then you gave me light. You made me feel human again- like I was important for something other than scientific advancement. You made me feel whole. I looked forward to seeing you every week despite your role. You saved me in more ways than one and I knew from the beginning that there was something different about you. I think I knew you’d rescue me from that place one way or another. Even after I broke your trust- even after I gave you every reason not to trust me, you did anyway. You’re smart, benevolent, interesting- and I’d be lying if I said you weren’t handsome as hell either,” Will began.

Hannibal blushed, his heart racing.

“You’ve changed my life and showed me that I am still capable of humanity despite everything I’ve been through- that I’m still worthy of being loved. I’d be dead without you and these new emotions I’m feeling towards you are strong and foreign and scary, but I feel them nonetheless.”

Hannibal held his breath, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.

“I think what I’m trying to say is…I think I love you, Hannibal,” Will finally confessed, turning away from the view to make firm eye contact with Hannibal.

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat as he stared into the man’s doe-like green eyes. Will’s eyes traveled down to Hannibal’s lips and Hannibal slowly reached up to clasp a gentle hand over Will’s cheek before leaning in and enveloping him in a blissfully romantic kiss. The two men melted into each other, Hannibal’s hand traveling down Will’s face and down his chest as Will ran his hand through Hannibal’s mousy grey hair. Everything in the last five months felt like it lead up to this very moment. The two felt magnetized to each other, not wanting to break away, but both seeping deeper and deeper into each other’s warmth until they felt their souls combine into one- and the world was finally at peace.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and followed along with my fic for so long! Thanks again for your patience on this chapter- I was running through a bit of writers block. I may write an epilogue to clean up questions in the end, but Will and Abigail head back to Virginia to resume their lives, the FBI raid the facility, Will gets compensated, and Hannibal transfers back to his psychiatry work in Baltimore in order to stay closer to Will if he needs him. ❤️ If you'd like to read more works similar to this, please check out the other fics I have on my page! 
> 
> Lots of love,  
> roaming4040


End file.
